Belle Colony
by Mizvoy
Summary: Complete! When Voyager returns to the AQ, the crew finds out that Chakotay’s been keeping a secret, and its repercussions are far reaching and unavoidable. Post Endgame
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager is the property of Paramount. No infringement intended. 

Summary: When Voyager returns to the AQ, the crew finds out that Chakotay's been keeping a secret--and its repercussions are far-reaching and unavoidable. J and C friendship. Post-Endgame

"Belle Colony" by Mizvoy

Kathryn Janeway scanned her messages a final time before she shut down her computer and stretched her arms over her head in a vain attempt to get the kinks out of her back. It was well after midnight and time to make her way to her temporary quarters and crawl into bed for a few hours of sleep before the debriefings began again the next day. She pulled on her uniform jacket, drained the last of the cold coffee from her cup, and walked quickly to the office doorway, hoping to embarrass the ever-present Starfleet security officer by finding him dozing at his post. No such luck.

"Calling it a night, Captain?" the ensign asked, obviously wide-awake and disgustingly chipper in spite of the late hour.

"Calling it a morning, actually," she quipped, noticing that he had, at least, been slumping against the wall. "What did you do to deserve this assignment, Ensign . . . ?"

"Peters, Ma'am."

". . . Ensign Peters?"

"Just lucky, I guess." He gave her a shy grin, and she immediately regretted teasing him. He reminded her of Harry Kim at the beginning of Voyager's Badlands mission, dutiful and unquestioning of his orders, so very green and naïve, so happy to do even the most trivial of duties. None of this was Ensign Peters' fault, she told herself, and he didn't deserve to be belittled for doing his duty.

No, she thought, her temper flaring, it was Chakotay's fault that she and the rest of the senior staff were being held in protective custody and under constant scrutiny. All of them except Tuvok were spending the first weeks of their return home in this minimum-security facility in Illinois, and Tuvok was only excused because of the treatment he needed for his debilitating illness. If only she understood why Chakotay disappeared, she might be able to forgive him. As it was, she'd like to shove him out an airlock.

She nodded at Peters, giving him a weak smile, and headed down the hall, out of the one story office building, and into the deserted quadrangle. Her head was pounding and her stomach upset because she'd forgotten dinner again. She'd have some soup when she got to her quarters and some Vulcan tea. There was a high full moon, and so the shadows were starker than usual as she walked through the gardens. For a secure facility, this "camp," as they called it, was at least aesthetically pleasing and climatically very much like her home in Indiana. And it was earth, after all, instead of the Delta Quadrant. She stifled a yawn.

"What time is it, Ensign?" she asked, realizing that she had been so focused on her work that she hadn't checked the clock in hours.

"Nearly 0200, ma'am." He was behind her, at the proper distance to avoid being surprised by her if she should try to escape. She smiled at the thought of it. Why would she try to escape? And where would she go? Even though he had to be a foot taller and outweigh her by a hundred pounds, he was being diligent, and she smiled to think that Tuvok would approve of his dedication to duty.

They arrived at the low apartment building where her quarters were located and found all the windows dark. She groaned at the thought of the hour. Her debriefings were scheduled to begin at 0900, so she would be short of sleep again, if she could sleep, at all. She feared that like most nights she would lie in bed and go over those last days and hours on Voyager again and again, sifting her memory for something, anything that could explain what had happened, that would allow her to understand Chakotay's baffling actions.

She was staying in a fourplex, its entrance situated on the corner of the tiny apartment, allowing Peters an unobstructed view of the door and the windows on the two exterior walls. They arrived at her door, and Peters took his usual post across from the apartment entrance in the shadows of the garden. "I hope you get some sleep, Captain," he said, giving her a small smile. "I know you have a lot on your mind."

"Thanks, Ensign," she answered as she opened the door, appreciating his kindness. She hoped he never faced the unhappiness this situation had created in her--the feelings of betrayal by one's best friend and the helplessness to do something about it. "Will you be on duty again tomorrow night?"

"No, ma'am," he replied, his face splitting into a brilliant grin. "I'm going on leave starting tomorrow. I'm going to see my folks in Arkansas, and then I'm being posted to the Harbinger."

"Well," she said, envying him his obvious excitement, his chance to enjoy the simple pleasures of home and then space duty. To be young and innocent again would be such a blessing. "Have a safe trip, and good luck on the ship."

"Thank you, ma'am. Sleep well."

Kathryn pushed the door shut and leaned against it heavily, suddenly feeling as if she were Atlas carrying the world on her shoulders. One short month earlier, when Voyager had burst into the Alpha Quadrant from the inside of a Borg sphere, she'd imagined that she would be at home in Indiana by now, her worries about her crew long over. She'd dreamed of being given parades and receptions, of being hailed as a hero for bringing her ship home against insurmountable odds. She'd thought of reconnecting with friends, family, fellow officers as she reclaimed her life and career.

How quickly those happy visions had evaporated.

She pulled off her jacket, noticing that the ensign had activated the security panel, effectively locking her in the apartment until her departure later in the morning. There were invisible force fields on the windows, a transporter dampener, and, of course, a lock on the door. Protective custody, the admirals had called it, and just for a short while. She shook her head in dismay. In spite of the late hour, she decided on a quick meal and a hot bath to help her relax. Maybe the bath would help her get a few hours of sleep.

The soup eased her nausea and her headache and gave her the chance to view the newsvids of the previous day. The articles on Voyager had not diminished as the mystery surrounding the Maquis captain's disappearance invited more and more speculation. How much did the Starfleet captain know of his devious plan? Had she helped him to plan his escape from prosecution? Had they been lovers, as so many thought they had? Had he blackmailed her into agreeing to his disappearance? She shook her head in exasperation and flipped off the screen.

As she prepared for her soak, she remembered those first sweet hours of success on Voyager before her elation had been dashed. After a subdued celebration on the bridge, she'd finally retired to her ready room where she'd begun to make arrangements for the crew to disembark and see their families. Preliminary arrangements were being made for each of the four portions of her crew--Starfleet, Equinox, Maquis, and Borg. Things were falling into place nicely when Chakotay interrupted her at the end of Beta shift.

"Have you been to see the baby?" she'd asked him as he strode into the room, grateful for the interruption and the chance to talk to her friend. While they'd spoken briefly in the first hour after their arrival, there was much more they needed to settle. "If not, I thought we could go together."

"Maybe later." He'd shifted to his other foot, his hands gripped behind his back in obvious discomfort. She sensed that this wasn't a happy meeting, as far as he was concerned, and she'd briefly wondered why that would be. Surely he knew that their friendship wouldn't end just because they were home and no longer working together. Besides, the debriefings could take months, and they'd have the chance to gradually readjust to working with others, to letting each other go.

Then she remembered the Admiral's news of his budding relationship with Seven of Nine.

She'd sat back in her chair, forcing herself to relax, reminding herself that he would soon tell her about his romance with the former Borg drone. If that's what was bothering him, he might as well do it, and she contemplated beating him to the punch and telling him what the admiral had told her about his future. Reluctant to break the temporal prime directive, she simply asked him what was on his mind.

"I just wanted to say that it's been a pleasure serving with you these seven years, Kathryn." His voice trembled with emotion. "I think you're the best leader I've ever seen, and the finest captain that's ever held the rank."

She frowned in confusion. They'd already congratulated each other on their spectacular success in getting home by using the Borg hub. Why would he feel compelled to shower her with compliments? Where was this sudden emotional outburst coming from? Alarmed at his sentimentality, she kept her voice calm as she said, "The feeling is mutual, Chakotay. I can't imagine a finer first officer than you've been for me."

"And I want you to know," he pressed on, his face serious, "that no matter what happens, I have the utmost respect for you as a person and a friend."

She'd stood up, coming around the desk to reassure him. "You act as if we won't see each other again, when in fact we'll continue to work closely as Starfleet debriefs us." She stopped in front of him, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "And I hope we'll always be friends."

He'd silently gathered her into his arms for a fierce hug, a display of physical affection that they'd learned to avoid over the years. She'd realized, though, that she needed a hug, and she'd needed it from him. "Remember that everything I do, Kathryn, is out of loyalty and devotion to you and this crew. No matter how it looks. No matter what anyone says."

Mystified, she'd slowly put her arms around his waist and returned his hug before she'd pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You know I trust you implicitly. What's wrong?"

He'd stared at her a long moment before he'd broken into a shy grin. "I guess I'm just a little overwrought, that's all. I thought I was prepared for this, but now I realize that I need time to come to terms with what's happened."

She'd stepped away, still a little alarmed by his unexpected display of affection. Everything had happened so quickly, too quickly for them to handle with grace and decorum. They needed to process all of this before they could really look forward. "Take some time, Chakotay. It will take us over twenty-four hours to reach earth. Use that time to think things through. Once we're in orbit, things will happen quickly. We might not be able to reflect on all that's happened then."

"I'll do that." He paused, his face troubled. "Thank you."

She'd returned to her desk and had reactivated her view screen before she realized that he was still rooted to the floor, staring at her intently. It had been a long time since he'd looked at her with such concern and much longer since she'd needed to dismiss him from her presence like a green ensign. "Is there something else, Commander?"

"No, Captain," he'd answered, glancing away. "I'm just realizing how much I'm going to miss this ship and the crew. And you."

She took a breath, recognizing the same fear deep inside herself. "Don't think about what we're losing, Chakotay. Think of what we've gained, of all the challenges ahead of us." He'd nodded silently, but still didn't move. "Let me finish answering these messages, and we'll go see the new baby together."

"I'll be on the bridge. Take your time," he'd answered, turning to leave the ready room. The doors had opened, and he'd paused again, turning to look at her once more, his eyes bright with emotion. "I think, in the future, I'll always imagine you here, in your special hideaway, waiting for me to bring you the daily status report." Before she could think of a response, the doors closed behind him, leaving her with her mouth hanging open in surprise at his uncharacteristic sentimentality.

Now, sinking into the warm water in her tub, she realized that something had in fact been seriously wrong, that his behavior had been a sign of what was to come. Why hadn't she followed up on her suspicions, she wondered? Was it because she had been so afraid that he'd tell her he was in love with Seven of Nine? That he planned to marry the former Borg? Whatever the reason for her reticence, she knew now that she'd made a mistake by not talking to him more intimately, for withdrawing from him when he was so obviously in distress.

She sighed. How could she have known that in the twenty -four hours between their joint visit to Sickbay to meet Miral Paris and Voyager's arrival at McKinley Station, her first officer would disappear from the ship without a trace?

The memory of those frantic moments after his departure nearly turned her stomach. She'd taken special care with her hair and makeup that evening, fully expecting to be greeted by the Chief of Starfleet Operations, to have her face on every newsvid throughout the Federation. She'd taken her seat on the bridge and looked around at her crew.

B'Elanna had gotten up from her bed to take her station at the bridge's engineering station, little Miral in a sling over her shoulder. Tom Paris grinned at her from the helm. Harry Kim and Tuvok stood at their usual stations on the upper deck, and Seven of Nine stood behind her, the EMH at her side. Only the seat beside her, Chakotay's seat, was empty.

"Has anyone seen the Commander today?" She was glad he'd taken the time off she'd offered and hoped that he'd found some resolution to his worries. For a moment she imagined that he was preparing some special arrival on the bridge to commemorate the moment--perhaps flowers or a plaque from the crew. When no one could remember seeing him, she'd glanced up at the overhead as she'd activated the ship's commlink.

"Janeway to Chakotay." Silence. "Chakotay, report to the bridge." Silence.

For an insane moment, she'd imagined that he'd overslept, that he was hopping around in his quarters on one foot pulling on a boot, that he was searching high and low for his commbadge and rank bar, or that he was dashing for the turbolift as he combed his hair.

Exasperated, she'd finally asked the computer for his location.

"Commander Chakotay is not on the ship," the cool voice had replied.

And the circus had begun.

Tuvok and his security teams had scoured the ship while Harry Kim and Seven had studied the sensor logs for any signal of his departure or of his kidnapping. Had he stowed away on one of the many shuttles that had visited the ship as they'd made their way toward earth? Had a cloaked vessel snatched him away while he meditated in his quarters? Had he contacted someone to help him escape? Had a sworn Cardassian enemy found a way to capture him? Kathryn didn't know and couldn't find out in time to keep Starfleet from taking over the investigation. She ground her teeth in frustration.

"Did you realize," Admiral Sanek had asked her later that evening, "that many of Chakotay's communiqués to his sister on Dorvan were delivered to a nonexistent address?"

"How would I have known that?" she'd replied, smarting at his imperious tone of voice. "Why would I check on the addressee of his messages?"

"Obviously, in spite of his years of loyal service to you, he is still a criminal," Sanek had concluded, "still flouting Federation law whenever it suits his purpose." His eyes had narrowed. "And I, for one, think you approved of this disappearing act."

And so, she and her senior staff had been escorted to this lovely facility in Illinois for an intensive and very confrontational debriefing. His behavior had cast the entire crew under suspicion, but, as upset as she'd been with Chakotay's disappearance, no one had been more furious than B'Elanna Torres.

In fact, she and B'Elanna had had an interesting discussion that very morning about the direction of Sanek's inquiry during their debriefings. B'Elanna had informed her that his questioning focused on Chakotay's final few months as a Maquis, just before their ship had begun to use the Badlands as a hiding place and just before the Caretaker snatched his ship into the Delta quadrant.

"Sanek just wouldn't give up," B'Elanna had complained as she slumped on Kathryn's office chair. "He just went on and on about Chakotay leaving the ship and doing some espionage for the Maquis, and he didn't want to hear me say that as far as I could remember he was never off of the ship at all."

"As far as you remember?"

"We had to go to a maintenance base to overhaul the injectors before we reported to the Badlands. I was busy with that, and I knew Chakotay was in meetings. But I thought he was on the base the whole time." She shrugged her shoulders. "I have no reason to think he went anywhere."

"Interesting," Kathryn had replied, storing the information away for later reference. Could that be the reason for Chakotay's sudden departure? Was there something in his past that neither she nor B'Elanna was aware of, something that the Federation was anxious to use against him?

The conjecture on Chakotay's Maquis crimes upset her even more, so she gave up on the bath and decided to stretch out in her bed for awhile and try to sleep. She finished her bedtime routine and turned out the lights, starting across the small bedroom lit only by moonlight when she suddenly realized that something was wrong. Whether it was a sound, or a smell, or a presence, she didn't know, but the hair on her neck prickled and she stopped to listen, crouching slightly and holding her breath in anticipation.

She was suddenly grabbed around the chest and neck by a strong arm while a second hand was clamped tightly over her mouth and nose. She began to struggle, even though she could tell that she was completely at this powerful man's mercy, unable to land a blow or even take a breath unless he released his hold. She wondered briefly how he had gotten into the compound and past Ensign Peters when he spoke quietly into her ear.

"Quiet, Kathryn. When I let you loose, just crawl into bed and wait until I make sure it's safe for us to talk. Understand?"

Chakotay! She was flooded with relief and curiosity and more than a little anger. How dare he sneak onto the facility and into her bedroom like this? She was tempted to scream bloody murder and laugh as he was taken into custody, but then she felt him gradually release her until his hold was more like an embrace. He buried his face in her hair and seemed to sigh with remorse as he held her body against his. Her heart softened. She remembered all they'd been through and how completely she'd trusted him. She should listen to what she had to say and then, if he deserved it, scream bloody murder.

She nodded, and he set her gently on the floor. She turned and looked at him briefly, but his face was nearly invisible in the darkness. All she could see was a flash of white teeth as he smiled at her and then glanced away. She crawled into bed, hearing the quiet chirp of a tricorder opening and seeing Chakotay's shadow as he moved methodically through the room.

Monitoring devices. He was checking for and disabling the cameras or microphones that were undoubtedly scattered throughout the room, having them recycle a period of quiet to fool the guards. The security system was probably set to activate whenever there was an unusual activity or sound. She reminded herself that he was good, very good at this sort of subterfuge, that he had been, after all, a cell leader in the Maquis. She slid between the sheets and waited for him to finish his work, anxious to confront him about his behavior. Perhaps now she could get the answers she needed to understand his desertion of her and the crew. Maybe he could explain his actions well enough to mute the fury that bubbled just beneath her calm exterior.

He crept around the room, quietly tapping instructions into his tricorder, a shadow that moved against the dim light of the windows, and then he sat down beside her on the bed, staring down at her. She let him look at her, waiting for him to begin the conversation.

"If I lie down beside you, we could whisper," he said, waiting for her permission before he moved closer. "The monitors in the next room are still functioning. If we talk out loud, they might pick up our voices."

She stared at him, trying to decide what to do, struggling with her conscience to find the best course of action. He was politely asking permission to lie down beside her on the bed, she reminded herself, when he could easily overpower her and do whatever he wanted to do. "I should turn you in for this, Chakotay. Tell me why I shouldn't? If they catch you here, we'll both go to prison."

He raised a phaser and pointed it at her head, his eyes glittering with tears, or malice; the light was too poor to tell the difference. He said, "You could plead innocence by explaining that I forced you to cooperate."

She swallowed. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew that. He was giving her an "out," removing the decision from her hands and placing the responsibility squarely on his own shoulders. "All right," she nodded, patting the bed. "Lie down so we can whisper."

He stretched out on top of the covers, resting his head on a bed pillow beside hers, the phaser still in plain view on his chest. For a long moment they just stared, both realizing how much they'd missed the other in the four weeks since they'd last talked. Kathryn struggled to keep herself focused on his desertion rather than her relief that he was safe. Clearly he'd left on his own volition and without a word of explanation.

"I've been thinking about you," he admitted, wincing when he saw the flash of anger in her eyes. "I've been worried about the debriefings."

"Like hell. Where the hell have you been?" she hissed, dispensing with the preliminaries. "How could you just disappear into thin air? Do you realize how much trouble you've caused? What were you thinking, leaving like that?"

"I know." He glanced away, unwilling to look her in the eye. "I thought I would be braver, more noble when the time came. I thought I could take whatever the authorities wanted to hand out, but I guess my survival instinct kicked in. I'm a coward."

"What are you talking about?"

"My crimes as a Maquis."

"Chakotay, I've told you that I would stand up for you, no matter what. Your seven years of service more than repay the damage you caused in your fight against the Cardassians. Don't you trust me?"

He smirked. "Frankly, Kathryn, you don't know what you're talking about."

"I beg your pardon." She was so angry she wanted to yell at him or get up and start pacing or put her hands around his neck, but because of her situation, she had to simply grit her teeth. "I've reviewed your entire file, and I know that your cell focused their attention on the Cardassians, not the Federation."

"Those were the activities Starfleet wanted you to know about. You don't know about the other charges against me." At her puzzled look, he chuckled softly. "Of course, I hacked into the file on Voyager and looked at my personal records. Surely you expected me to."

Tuvok had made her aware of Chakotay's snooping shortly after he had been made first officer. She would've been surprised if he hadn't satisfied his curiosity. But then the conversation with B'Elanna came back to her, the questions about the days when Chakotay might have worked alone or with another cell while his ship was under repair. There was nothing in his file about that period of time, if she remembered correctly. "Tell me the truth," she demanded. "Tell me what I don't know."

"Murder, Kathryn," he replied. "Murder, pure and simple."

She stared at him in disbelief. She had always comforted herself with the knowledge that his actions had never deliberately taken him into conflict with Starfleet or the Federation and that his actions had never really been those of a terrorist. He'd been a freedom fighter and had, at times, taken lives during battle. So had she. But, murder?

"Did this happen just before your ship reported to the Badlands?"

"So they have been asking about that," he nodded. "I knew they would."

"They've been questioning B'Elanna about it, asking her about your activities while the ship was under repair."

"She knows nothing about what happened."

"She's told them that, but they aren't inclined to believe her."

"Nor would they believe me, Kathryn, which is why I decided to disappear."

She frowned. "Just how did you do that, by the way? And how did you find out about these 'secret' charges?"

"Not all officers sympathetic to the Maquis cause left Starfleet," he replied. "But that's all I'm going to say."

She knew he was telling the truth. Several of her close friends were secret sympathizers with the Maquis, even though they continued to serve Starfleet without interruption. She wouldn't be surprised if many of them were still on active duty. "Of course. You would have to have had someone on the inside to disappear from Voyager as you did."

"You'd be surprised how many. And how high they go in the organization."

She realized that the people who had helped him escape from the ship had probably helped him gain access to her quarters on an extremely secure Starfleet camp. "What are the murder charges about?"

He shifted slightly, putting the phaser back into its holster on his left hip and then lacing his fingers across his chest. "Let me start by saying that I never thought my ship would survive its upcoming assignment to the Badlands. We'd lost more than eighty percent of the personnel and ships that had gone there, and I had no reason to believe my ship and crew would have any more luck than anyone else."

"So you decided to make your life count for something?" she guessed. "You felt like going to the Badlands was suicidal?"

"Something like that. I thought that I had months, maybe a year to live, and I wanted to make a difference. The Maquis needed medicine and food, so while B'Elanna and her engineers were working on the ship, I decided to help another Maquis cell raid a Federation outpost." He paused, reluctant to continue. "Belle Colony."

"Belle Colony!" Her eyes widened with surprise. The total destruction of the small outpost had electrified the Federation and turned many previously sympathetic individuals against the Maquis. To think that the man that she'd trusted with her ship, her life, and her very honor had participated in the deaths of over three hundred innocent people was simply incredible. "I don't believe it."

"It was a perfect target. Small, underdefended. Plus, the colonists had planned to expand their settlement and had stockpiled tons of food, medicine, and building materials for that purpose. Then, they realized that the atmosphere was eroding the dome's molecular structure and put the expansion on hold until the problem could be resolved."

"And all those extra supplies?"

"Were just sitting in some warehouses in a remote area of the settlement."

"It sounds too good to be true. Almost like a trap."

"It was a trap, all right. But the trap was Cardassian."

"Cardassian?"

He sighed and rolled over onto his side to face her. "The team leader was a man named Padrillo. I didn't like him much. I knew he could be ruthless when he had to be and that he carried a grudge against the Federation, but I thought I could keep him under control. After all, the mission was deceptively simple. I was going to beam into the warehouse and tag the materiel we wanted while Padrillo beamed into their power plant to disrupt the shields just enough to beam us and the supplies out. Then the shields were supposed to return to full power. Nobody was supposed to get hurt."

She'd seen the diagrams of the installation in the aftermath of the destruction. The dome that had protected the colony from the poisonous atmosphere had been compromised when the power distribution system had exploded for no apparent reason. The only viable explanation for the failure had been the Maquis ship that had been detected racing away from the region by the Federation rescue ships dispatched to help the colonists. The only real comfort had been the mercifully quick and painless deaths visited upon the colonists.

"You and this man . . . this Padrillo . . . blew up the power system?"

"No. At least that wasn't the plan. He was only supposed to disrupt the shields. And that part of the operation was Padrillo's. We landed our shuttle outside the dome and beamed into tunnels that led into the dome. Padrillo went to the power plant while I went to the warehouse to tag the supplies. He joined me there and activated the pulse that was supposed to momentarily weaken the shields and allow transport to a second shuttle overhead. Then we returned to the tunnel and beamed back to the shuttle."

"And the colonists didn't pick up all this transporting and shuttle activity?"

He closed his eyes. "We had a few tricks up our sleeves."

"Someone in Starfleet provided some security codes."

"I never said that."

She sighed. "You don't have to. So, you beamed back to your ship."

"I was piloting the shuttle, so I couldn't monitor the sensors to make sure the power system came back on line properly. By the time I realized that the system was malfunctioning, the dome was already collapsing." A tear coursed down the side of his face and onto the pillow. "I begged Padrillo to return and help the colonists, but he refused. And then I accused him of sabotaging the power plant instead of just disrupting the shields."

"Oh, Chakotay." She watched him reach up and brush the tears from his eyes.

"He made some remark like 'Serves the Feds right,' and I was on him with both fists. If the other two Maquis hadn't been on the shuttle and pulled me off him, I would've tried to kill him with my bare hands."

"But he didn't admit to sabotaging the power plant?"

"Not in so many words. But whether he did it on purpose or whether the pulse we'd set up started a chain reaction doesn't matter. We're responsible for those deaths." He paused, struggling to retain control of his emotions. "Years later, after we were stranded in the Delta Quadrant, I realized that it had been Seska who had prepared Padrillo's charges for him."

"Seska. So that's the Cardassian connection. You're thinking that she might have set you up?"

"I can't prove it. But it really doesn't matter. We killed those three hundred people as surely as if we'd put a phaser to their heads one person at a time." He looked so miserable, his voice sounded so tortured, that her heart went out to him. He'd lived with this guilt for years, she realized, since before she'd met him. "I'm a murderer, Kathryn."

"You are not. You had nothing to do with Padrillo's actions, nor with Seska's treachery."

He gave her a cynical smile. "Any deaths that occur during a felony are considered capital murder, and you know it, and breaking and entering a Federation facility in order to steal supplies is a felony. It's murder multiplied three hundred times. By all rights, I should spend the rest of my life in prison for what I've done."

"Stay and let us argue this in the courts."

"If I had your courage, Kathryn, and your nobility, I'd face the music instead of turning tail and running. I admit my guilt. The decision is whether I want to spend the rest of my life on a penal colony or living outside of Federation space."

"There are always other options."

He turned to her, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. Whatever happens, wherever I go, I have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life."

"I wonder how thorough the investigation was into the explosion? I wonder how much data is available to corroborate your account." She wanted so much to comfort him, to reassure him about what had happened. "It must've been your shuttle that the rescue ships detected as they approached Belle Colony. Everyone assumed that the Maquis had destroyed the colony. But . . . did they?"

"I've just told you we did." His voice was deadly calm. "And they investigated enough to identify both me and Padrillo as having been on the colony that night."

"Maybe we can talk to Padrillo? Find out exactly what he did while he was in the power plant."

"I'd love to get my hands on Padrillo again, but he's dead, killed by the Cardassians in the war."

"Then give me a chance to find out what I can. I have contacts in Starfleet, too."

"Kathryn, are you listening? It doesn't matter. I'm guilty of the crime, and there's nothing you can do to change that fact."

But Kathryn's mind refused to listen and was headed in a completely different direction. "Why didn't the admiral warn us about this?"

"Admiral Janeway?"

"She didn't hold back many punches about the future. How could she have overlooked something this important? I can't believe that she would've put you in such jeopardy without a word or two of warning."

"I don't think she knew about my involvement with the Belle Colony disaster." When he sensed the skepticism in his captain's face, he said, "I asked her about the Maquis in her timeline, about what had happened to them on Voyager's return. She said that they were all pardoned and allowed to find gainful employment in the Federation. But when I asked her specifically about the charges against me, she became evasive. She finally admitted that her Chakotay died just before they returned to Federation space. I'm assuming that because he was dead, she never learned of the additional charges against him."

"Really? Her Chakotay was dead?" She paused, trying to imagine how devastated her future self must have felt to lose her closest friend. "But, how could the admiral not know? Her Voyager was in contact with Starfleet for years before they finally returned. Why hadn't she been informed?"

"I could ask you the same question, Kathryn. Why haven't they told you about Belle Colony, of all my crimes? Why haven't they kept you informed of what faces me once we're home?" He let that sink in for a moment. "They know we've been working together closely for seven years, that we've worked out a good command relationship and a pretty deep friendship. They probably feared that you would help me escape, or that you would defend me in spite of the facts."

"You're right. There's no other reason for them to avoid telling me about your presence at Belle Colony. And even though they must know that the Belle Colony issue is the reason for your disappearance, they're trying to find out how much we know before they tell us any of the details."

"I should've been honest about this. I should've come to you years ago with the truth, but I was afraid. And, to be honest, I'd hoped that they wouldn't figure out that I had been on Belle Colony that night. I'd hoped that all the evidence had been lost when the colony's dome collapsed."

"When did you find out that they knew you were there?"

"When the Pathfinder communications became regular, one of my contacts let me know. But I thought we had years yet before we returned. I decided not to panic."

"You should've told me right away."

"I thought you might relieve me of duty or, worse yet, withdraw your friendship. I feel so guilty about my actions that I could barely admit what I'd done to myself." He frowned. "The worst of all this is that I can never escape the remorse for what I did. The people living in Belle Colony were innocent victims. They were simply living their lives, as my people had been when the Cardassians slaughtered them." He looked away, visibly distressed. "Twenty-two children died that night. I have to find a way to live with that fact."

"It wasn't your fault. There has to be some way to show that Padrillo's actions were separate from yours, if he even knew about the problem. And I'd be willing to bet that Seska had more to do with this than anyone in the Federation has ever considered possible."

He turned to face her, gripping her shoulder with his left arm. "Kathryn, I was there. I took part in the theft that resulted in the deaths of those three hundred people. There isn't any way to 'handle' this." He smiled, his grip turning into a caress. "But, I want you to know that I'm glad you believe me. I'd always hoped that you'd believe I was innocent."

"I do believe you, Chakotay. I know you're incapable of murdering three hundred innocent people. Why not let me help?"

"To protect you. I don't want to pull you or anyone else down with me." He shook his head. "It's better this way. I came to tell you why I've disappeared and to say goodbye, that's all. I owe you that much."

"Goodbye? You're really leaving?" She could hardly breathe. "What about Seven of Nine? Aren't you two involved?"

"We've had a few casual dates. A couple of kisses." He paused and shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. "I wouldn't call that serious, would you?"

"But she told me you discussed continuing your relationship once you were home. That you were making plans to be together."

"What was I supposed to say to her, Kathryn? I didn't want anyone to think I was unhappy to get home, so I pretended I'd be settling back into the Alpha Quadrant just like everyone else. I couldn't afford to tip my hand. But, I'm sorry that I misled her. I never meant to hurt her."

Kathryn just shook her head in resignation. "Well, as Seven would say, she'll adapt."

"You're the one I feel as if I'm leaving behind. I should be here to help you as the crew's debriefed, as you readjust to being home."

"Then stay," she begged him. "Stay and we'll fight this together."

Before he could answer, there was a soft chirp from his pocket. "That's the signal. I have just a few minutes before I have to go."

"Where are you going?" she demanded, suddenly desperate to keep him with her. "How can I contact you? When will I see you again?"

"I can't tell you where I'm going, and I don't know when or if I'll see you again," he admitted, touching her face and giving her a wistful smile. "If I can, I'll let you know I'm okay. Be happy, Kathryn. Enjoy your success. You deserve that much after all you've done for us."

"But I'm going to miss you too much! How can I be happy if I'm worrying about where you are and whether you're all right?"

"Don't worry about me." When she sobbed, he put his arms around her and held her close, absorbing the sounds of her sorrow in his chest as silent tears streamed down his face. "Don't cry."

"This can't be happening," she mumbled, feeling as if her heart were being torn from her body. "This is a nightmare."

He pulled back from her and shook her slightly. "Listen to me--you have to remember this. Don't believe everything you hear about me. I'll be fine. I have a plan and friends to help me."

"But none of them care for you as much as I do. You're my best friend, Chakotay. I need you to stay beside me, as you promised to do. Please, stay and let me help you."

Those words, more than anything else, broke his heart. She not only believed that he was telling the truth about his innocence, she still believed in him, in his basic goodness and integrity, despite the horrible confession he'd made to her, despite the fact that he was guilty of being an accessory to murder. He cursed the hopeless anger of those final months with the Maquis, damned Seska to hell for her complicity in the Belle Colony explosion, and blamed himself for the rash decisions that had altered his life forever and put Kathryn Janeway eternally out of his reach.

"There's nothing you can do for me," he admitted. "There's nothing anyone can do."

"I know you'd be taking a chance if you stayed. But even if the worst happens, we could still see each other."

"I should stay and accept the consequences of my actions. I should stay and help you get through the debriefings. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison. Besides, no matter what I do, I can never escape from the torment this guilt creates in me every day. I can never really escape my punishment."

She buried her face in his neck again, and he couldn't help but think of the irony of the moment, lying in bed beside Kathryn, holding her in his arms as a farewell gesture. How he had longed for this moment and for this woman. How he had dreamed of holding her, of cherishing her, for the rest of their lives. But before he could lose himself in the promise of her affectionate embrace, he reminded himself that he had to leave quickly.

"It's time for me to go." He stood up and fished a tiny device from his pocket. "Stay where you are. The monitors will come back on line as soon as I beam out."

"Don't go!"

"I have to go. I'll ruin you if I stay, and God only knows what would happen to the other Maquis. I couldn't live with that. In time, you'd all come to hate me and resent the damage I've done to your lives and your careers."

"That's not true. I'd never resent you."

"Whatever pain and sorrow you feel, it's my fault. Blame me."

She wouldn't be dissuaded. "There has to be a way out of this."

He knelt beside the bed and kissed her on the forehead. "Never forget how much I care about you. You're the best friend I've ever had, and you're the best person I've ever known. I'll treasure the memory of these last seven years with you for the rest of my life. Be happy, Kathryn. And tell the crew . . . well, make them understand why I've done this, if you can."

Tears spilled down her face. "How can I make them understand when I don't understand it myself?"

"But you do understand. You'd make any sacrifice for the good of the crew, wouldn't you?"

"I don't see how your going away will help the crew."

"It will, I promise you. Starfleet will try to claim there were other members of the Maquis involved in the murders. They'll question your judgment for not realizing that the man you made your first officer was a murderer. No one will benefit from having me around." He smiled down at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Remember the good times, Kathryn. Remember our friendship. Remember what we had, not what we let get away."

She watched dumbstruck as he keyed the device and was immediately surrounded by the familiar blue swirl of a Federation transporter. "Stop!" she cried, forgetting about the monitors in the next room, forgetting about everything but the pain his leaving caused her. "You're breaking my heart!"

The room was silent and dark, and she was alone again, just as she'd been alone for so long on Voyager. She collapsed into her pillows unable to move as she heard barely discernible clicks from three spots in the room, clicks that told her that the monitors had reactivated. She was being watched, her actions carefully studied, but she no longer cared. As miserable as she felt, nothing mattered any more.

There had to be a way to prove that Chakotay was innocent, that Seska or Padrillo had been the ones guilty of the Belle Colony massacre or that the dome itself had collapsed because of a structural failure and not because of the Maquis raid. She'd focus on finding that proof, once the Voyager situation was settled. Chances were good that the investigation of the explosion had not been extensive, because everyone would have assumed that the escaping Maquis ship was guilty of the crime. She would access the records, interview those involved, even visit the colony's remains if she had to, and in time, she'd prove his innocence. And then she'd find him and bring him home.

She'd talk to B'Elanna first thing in the morning, and together she and the rest of the senior staff would figure out how to proceed. She desperately wanted to dive into the Belle Colony mystery as soon as possible, but she knew it wasn't the right time. She'd have to be patient, and she'd have to be careful. Starfleet intelligence would be watching her closely, thinking that she might attempt to manipulate the data in Chakotay's favor. But in the meantime, she was miserable and disappointed, all because Chakotay had once again taken everything on his own shoulders, because he hadn't trusted her enough to ask for help.

She tossed and turned in her bed, trying to find a comfortable position, when her eyes fell on an unusual object sitting on her nightstand. She reached over and switched on the light. A flat smooth stone, about the size of her palm, lay in front of her alarm clock. She picked it up and studied its surface, recognizing Chakotay's delicate and beautiful etching. She realized that he must have left it there for her as a parting gift.

The surface bore the image of Voyager in minute detail. She was fascinated by the sheer beauty of the work and its incredible accuracy. Then she turned the stone over and nearly cried out loud. The opposite side was etched with a picture of their temporary home on New Earth, a view of the tiny cabin and the garden that was in perfect scale. She ran her thumb over the lines of the drawing as tears streamed down her face. Beneath the small picture was a brief sentence:

"I will remember you."

to be continued


	2. The Caritas

All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: In "Belle Colony," Chakotay disappears when Voyager returns to Federation space, preferring to be productive elsewhere than face prosecution for his involvement in a fatal Maquis raid on Belle Colony. In this story, we find out what has happened to Chakotay once he is truly on his own.

The Caritas (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

Date: about six months after "Belle Colony"

Chakotay was dying. He lay in an icy pool of water in a deserted shaft of a dilithium mine on Alloran Core and almost smiled at the absurdity of his death. He'd survived so many perilous adventures in his life--twenty years of hazardous Starfleet missions, three years as a Maquis fighting a losing battle against superior forces, seven years stranded in the Delta Quadrant--only to die at the hands of a bounty hunter within spitting distance of Federation space. He could almost laugh at the irony of it.

He thought back to those first moments after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, the way his initial elation had been dashed when his clandestine colleague had contacted him by way of a carefully concealed subspace message. When Chakotay had seen the Federation's irrefutable evidence of his involvement in the Belle Colony disaster, he'd felt something give way in his chest. The security pictures taken inside the Colony's warehouse were dark and grainy, but his identity was unmistakable, thanks to his distinctive tattoo. Not that he would deny being there; he admitted his involvement in the raid. But their purpose had been to take supplies, not destroy the Colony's dome. Not murder nearly 300 innocent men, women, and children.

His contact had given him less than six hours to decide what do to--stay on Voyager and spend the rest of his life in a Federation penal colony or escape prosecution and live the rest of his life in exile, doing whatever he could to atone for his guilt. He had lived with that guilt for seven years, and he knew that prison would do nothing to lessen the horrible responsibility he felt for his actions.

He groaned as he asked himself again why he hadn't he gone to Kathryn with his dilemma. She'd proven herself to be a true, loyal friend, and he trusted her with his life and honor, but he'd stopped short. He'd gone to her ready room as soon as his contact had broken the subspace connection, but when he'd seen her hard at work behind her desk, already struggling with dozens of issues, he'd been unable to add to her already suffocating burden. She'd wanted to celebrate their success with him; he'd wanted to apologize for his lifetime of stupid decisions.

And so he'd said nothing. She had too much to take care of and answer for, including the choices she'd made in a dozen questionable situations, the delicate job of reuniting the crew with the families they hadn't seen in seven years, the trials for the Maquis and the Equinox members of the crew, and her own shattered life to try to piece together. Even later, when he'd gone to her to explain his disappearance, he'd refused to saddle her with his problem.

But, now, as he struggled to breathe, he wanted so much to talk to her one last time. If he could just hear her voice once more, he would die in peace. She would have been a big help to him. She would have known who to trust, and she would have provided him with Starfleet contacts who were honorable and sincere. At the very least, he should have kept his promise to stay in touch with her. She would have made sure he found a safe and secure location for his exile.

Instead he'd listened to an old friend from the Academy who claimed to have sympathy with Maquis survivors. That misplaced trust had landed him here, in a slave mine, slowly bleeding to death, six short months later. He suspected that there was more to his predicament than he knew, but now he would never find out who had betrayed him. Or why they had done it.

A shadow appeared over him as the night shift supervisor studied his semi-conscious victim. "They'll still pay if he's dead, right?"

"Yeah," came an indistinct reply from further up the shaft. "Reb said dead or alive."

"Good. I'm glad to get rid of this bastard. He was nothing but trouble, encouraging the workers to fight, demanding better food and board," the man sneered, and then gave Chakotay a savage kick in the side that sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. "Let's get something to drink. Reb'll be here with the money in a couple of hours."

Gradually, Chakotay became aware of a flickering light. Firelight. And he heard the raucous voices of three drunken men swearing at each other. The warmth from the fire barely reached him, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones and filling his lungs. His eyes wouldn't focus as his body shivered with the cold . . . or fever.

He thought of Voyager, of their tireless effort to find a way home. In his delirium, he could almost hear the steady pulse of the warp core, stable as a heartbeat as it kept the ship and their hope alive. When he'd been in trouble out there, he always knew the captain was looking for him, seeking any method available to help him. But this time no one knew where he was, and there would be no rescue. He wouldn't awaken in sickbay with the doctor on one side of the biobed and Kathryn on the other, smiling down at him in relief.

"You can have him if he ain't dead yet." The bounty hunter, an oily human named Reb Johannsen, led the two men down the sloping back yard toward the shack that stood in the damp shadows of a muddy creek. Here, the snow persisted in filthy scraps, and the air was frigid in the weak early morning sun. The shack had once been a barn, and the reek of ancient animal droppings was nearly overpowering as the two men stepped through its dilapidated door.

"That's him." Johannsen pointed at a motionless heap of rags in the corner. "The miners weren't too eager to get rid of him, but I managed to bribe his crew chief. I'm guessing they wanted the reward themselves instead of handing it over to the boss."

The taller of the two men walked to the corner and used the toe of his boot to push the unconscious man onto his back. Although the light that leaked in through the ruined siding fell across the prisoner's face, the pale blue lines of a tattoo on his left temple were nearly obscured by dirt, dried blood, and shaggy hair.

"Are you sure he's alive?" the man asked, raising his own ruined face to glare at Johannsen. He gave the prisoner a solid nudge with the toe of his boot, but the unconscious man didn't make a sound; a thin line of red drool threaded from his mouth. "A carcass isn't worth much to me."

"He was alive yesterday, but if you don't want him, the other guys'll pay for him dead or alive." The mercenary smiled, displaying a mouth full of rotten teeth. "The reward is big enough either way."

"I'll double it."

"He's yours."

The credits were exchanged, and the bounty hunter left the men with their dubious purchase. The smaller man knelt by the prisoner and felt his neck for a pulse. He looked up at his partner with a frown. "Weak and thready."

"Well, let's get him out of here before it's too late."

The prisoner was a large man, but painfully thin, and the two men carried him up the hill between them, draping his arms over their shoulders and letting his feet drag behind them. They laid him in the back of their truck where a Bajoran woman waited to cover him with a blanket and cushion his head with her rolled-up parka.

"He looks dead," she said, her eyes wide with surprise.

"He will be if we don't hurry up."

The men climbed into the cab and started the truck toward town, turning onto a narrow lane as soon as they were no longer visible from the bounty hunter's cabin. A mile farther, the driver pulled the truck into two ruts leading to a gate and turned off the engine.

"This is where we're supposed to leave it," he explained to the tall man. He gestured at the glove compartment. "The communicator is in the stash."

Once they were beamed onto their orbiting space ship, the tall man, Tom Riker, stood just inside the tiny sickbay as the woman, Ro Laren, began to examine the prisoner.

"Is he Chakotay?"

"What's left of him," Laren answered, running a tricorder over his still form. "So far, I can tell that he's dangerously dehydrated. He's been brutally beaten and starved. And I think he has pneumonia." She looked up at Tom. "He needs a real doctor, and fast."

"We'll take him home at best speed," Tom said, heading for the bridge.

Laren stripped the filthy rags from the unconscious man and stuffed them into the recycler with disgust. She used the portable sonic cleaner to remove the dried blood and dirt systematically from his thin frame, shaking her head at his malnourished condition. The bruises and half healed wounds all over his body proved that he had been beaten more than once, yet, as she gently washed his face and hair, his handsome features were unmistakable. She ran her fingers across the wing-like lines that swirled across his forehead.

His dark eyes opened and struggled to focus on her face. "Kathryn?"

"I'm Ro Laren, and I'm here to help you."

Disoriented and burning with fever, Chakotay let his head fall back on the treatment table as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Reb Johannsen didn't bother watching his clients leave with their damaged goods; he couldn't care less whether the half-dead miner lived or not now that he had his credits. He'd made enough money on the deal to live quite handsomely for the next year, and so he spent the next couple of hours making some travel plans.

He was halfway through his second bottle of ale when a message popped up on his comm unit--one of his contacts at the dilithium mine. He activated the screen, looking forward to gloating about the profit he'd made on the miner, but his words died on his lips at the grim visage that greeted him. It was Rosit Mornag, a former competitor who had given up bounty hunting for a much less profitable and less dangerous job--the sale of information.

"That you, Reb?"

"It's me, Ros," he replied, giving him a frown and raising his beer bottle in a toast. "And I'm feeling no pain."

"Neither is Portrand."

"Guess he's using his profits for some booze of his own." Johannsen laughed, thinking of the pittance he'd paid Portrand, the mine's night shift chief, to smuggle the half-dead human off of the planet.

"Actually," Rosit replied, looking over his shoulder and lowering his voice to a whisper, "he's dead."

"Dead?" Johannsen sat up and tried to shake off the effects of the alcohol. "He looked damned healthy last night."

"Yeah, well, nobody looks too good after a disappointed Cardassian gets through with him."

"Why would a Cardy bother with somebody like Portrand?"

"Nobody knows for sure, but we think it had something to do with that human that disappeared from the mine. You know the one." Rosit winked and looked over his shoulder again. "It turns out that the Federation guys wasn't the only guys looking for the dude. The Cardies are after him, too."

"So what."

"Well, seems Portrand's boss had already promised him to the Cardy, and when the human turned up missing? Well, the Cardy needed somebody to pay."

A chill ran through Johannsen's spine. From the way he was acting, Rosit knew he was the one who'd paid Portrand to turn the human over to him. And that couldn't be good. "Too bad about Portrand. But why would I care about the human?"

Rosit gave him a knowing smile. "Because the Cardies are paying a nice chunk of credits to find out where the human went, Reb. The Cardies didn't take kindly to having their property sold out from under them."

Johannsen swallowed. Rosit's comm link would tell him exactly where he was located--and Rosit wasn't above turning in a friend for the right amount of money. "Like I care. Drop dead, Rosit."

He cut off the transmission and sat for a few moments in the silent cabin, sweat beading on his upper lip.

The Cardy would be after him, too, and soon.

"Is he going to make it?" Riker asked as the Bajoran doctor closed his medkit and pulled the blanket over Chakotay's chest.

"If we had facilities like they have in the Federation, he'd be up and about in a couple of weeks," the doctor answered, placing a hand on his patient's shoulder with a sigh of regret. "But here? It'll be months before he's on his feet again."

"That long?" Riker walked with the doctor through the door and into the chill of a late fall night.

"If he'd spend another day in that shack, Tom, we would've been burying him." The doctor shivered and put down his medkit so he could pull on his jacket and gloves. "Where are you going to hide him? With the sisters?"

Riker nodded. "They have that little apartment on the attic of the house. The kids won't bother him there, and Tante Marilas is a decent nurse."

"He'll just be another orphan to them, I guess." He picked up the medkit and started toward the small town whose lights were glimmering in the distance. "Keep him warm when you take him over there, and tell Marilas I'll be checking on him every day for awhile. I'll tell everybody that one of the babies is sick, in case somebody comes looking for him."

"Thanks, doc." He watched the man trudge away, remembering how he had kept so many Maquis alive in the Cardassian prison with little more than blankets and water. "We're lucky to have you."

The man just raised his hand in salute and kept walking.

Tom Riker had met Ro Lauren in a Cardassian prison soon after the Dominion War had begun. Together they had orchestrated an escape for a half dozen surviving Maquis and had spent the last few years looking for and rescuing the pitiful few who had lived through the war. They called themselves the Caritas--a word that meant love, value, worth. They were tireless in their rescue efforts, although the number of Maquis to be saved had nearly dried up.

They had heard of Chakotay's escape had six months earlier, thanks to the newsvids that carried Voyager's spectacular return, but because they avoided contact with the Federation, they'd been unable to help him escape. Like everyone else, they had been unable to track him down until, just a couple of weeks earlier, they heard rumors of a rebellious, angry dilithium miner who had a bird wing tattoo on his forehead. Even though they moved quickly to find him, it was a miracle that they had found him while he was still alive.

Ro Laren stepped out of the building and looked up at the stars. "We'll want to get him over to the farm before the sun comes up."

Riker nodded. "Do the sisters know he's coming?"

"Barlon went over there while the doc was fixing up Chakotay. Marilas is getting the room cleaned up for him. She said the sooner the better, before the children are up and asking questions."

"We can't keep calling him Chakotay, Laren, not as long as he has a price on his head. If somebody overhears the name and makes the connection . . . the bounty hunters would come after him, and they wouldn't care who they hurt in the process. "

"The ones from the Federation? Or the Cardassians?"

Riker shook his head in dismay. "I'm not sure. The Feds are after him for his involvement in Belle Colony. But the Cardies? I thought they'd given up on punishing the Maquis."

"Maybe they want to turn him over to the Federation, too?"

"Could be, I guess." Riker sighed and started walking back toward the building.

"In the Maquis," Ro said, falling into step beside him, "some of the men from Dorvan called him 'Tyee.' I think it means 'king fish' or 'chief.'"

"Tyee, then." He pulled his jacket tighter around him. "Did he say anything during the trip here?"

"A couple of words--'Kathryn' and 'captain'--he was delirious with fever, so I don't know if they mean anything.'"

"He must have meant Janeway, his captain from Voyager." He paused at the door of the building, looking back at the strengthening light of dawn. "He would've been better off trusting her than whoever it was that helped him escape."

"They left him much too close to Alloran Core. They must've known that the slavers would get him."

"Maybe that's what they wanted, Laren. Maybe they wanted him to disappear for good."

The sun rose over the trees as Riker and Barlon lifted the unconscious Chakotay from the stretcher into the tiny attic room's bed. Tante Marilas hovered over them, begging them to be gentle and studying the man who would be her patient. She was a small woman and quite old, nearly eighty years of age, but she was healthy and vigorous, even though she was the oldest of three sisters who ran the farm.

The huge, rambling farmhouse was a relic from better days when the sisters' parents had owned all the fields and the surrounding hills as far as the eye could see. Their property had produced a bounty of crops and herds of cattle, enough to make their family rich--and enough to lure the Cardassians into seizing their farm to feed their troops.

During their forty years of occupation, the Cardassians had managed to damage the planet's environment so badly that the farm barely produced enough to feed the sisters and the twelve orphans they had taken into their home. But, at least they were able to eke out a meager existence. There were other farms that would never produce a crop again.

Riker stood up and ran his hand over his face. It had been a long night, and he was so exhausted he felt sick to his stomach. "The bag has the hyposprays he needs to keep him alive--medicine and glucose. The doc said he'd be out every day until he's better, so he'll bring you anything else you'll need. I'm afraid you'll have to clean him up until he's able to take care of himself."

"It's our honor to tend to him," she replied, tucking the blanket around her patient's still form with care. "He was a member of the Maquis?"

"Yes, a cell leader, in fact. He's a good man, Marilas." This was not the first injured man he'd left in her car, and he knew she still remembered each of them because she often asked about their conditions. Her years of servitude under the Cardassians and made her into a generous, courageous, and hard-working angel of mercy. "He's an honorable man."

"I look forward to hearing his stories once he's better. Come," she said, gesturing to the tiny table near the window. "Tell me what you know of him so that I can better comfort him as he regains consciousness."

Riker told her the story of Chakotay's life, or what he knew of it.

"Just before his ship was assigned to the Badlands, he took part in a Maquis raid that ended in unexpected disaster. They were raiding a small Federation settlement, Belle Colony, for supplies. It was to be a quick in-and-out job, but as they left, the Colony's dome collapsed, killing nearly three hundred people. The Federation is convinced that the Maquis destroyed the dome on purpose. The Maquis swear it was an accident." He sighed in despair. "If Chakotay hadn't been warned in advance by a sympathetic Starfleet officer, he would have been arrested and charged with capital murder as soon as Voyager docked."

"If he was innocent, if it was an accident, why did he run away?" she wondered, caught up in the awful tragedies of the poor man's life. "Why not stay and tell the truth?"

"There's a law in the Federation that any death that occurs during the commission of a crime is considered capital murder. They claim to have images of Chakotay and the others taking supplies from the colony just before the disaster occurred." He finished his tea and sighed. "I imagine he'd rather be out here atoning for his wrongs than sitting in a prison feeling guilty for the rest of his life."

"And the others who were with him on the raid? What happened to them?"

"All lost, Marilas. Some killed by the Cardassians, others during the war."

She nodded her head solemnly. "And so he's a wanted man."

"Yeah, the Federation put a bounty on his head." Riker leaned back in his chair and tried not to yawn. His eyes felt grainy from lack of sleep. "He had help in escaping from Federation space, but once he was outside their borders, he was completely on his own. A single man struggling to find his way in the frontier is in constant danger."

"The slavers trapped him, I assume?"

Riker nodded. "I imagine they offered him a decent job on a starship or a colony, only to sell him into slavery once he was in their grasp. At least, that's what they usually do. We haven't been able to talk to him yet."

"And where did they take him?"

"He went to the dilithium mine at Alloran Core, a hellhole only a little less deadly than Rura Penthe. The miners there usually last six months. Chakotay wouldn't have lasted that long."

"Oh, the poor man." She glanced at the unconscious man with sympathy.

"It was just a matter of time before the miners killed him or turned him in for the reward. We were lucky to find a someone with contacts on the inside." Tom rubbed his face again. "We shouldn't use his real name, Marilas. Call him Tyee. And if the children see him, cover up the tattoo. It's an identifying mark that they might innocently mention to someone who's looking for him."

"I understand." She stood up, bringing their talk to a close. "You're very tired and need to get some sleep, and it's time for me to help my sisters prepare the children's breakfast."

Riker stood up. "You realize that you're taking a chance by having Tyee here, you and the children."

"I won't let danger keep me from giving help to those who need it." She smiled sadly. "And, I have taken bigger chances in my life, Mr. Riker."

He nodded, his eyes glowing with admiration. "We have some supplies for you and the orphans--food and clothing, a little medicine. Borlan will bring them by later today, if that's all right."

"Oh, I am so thankful. You and the rest of the Caritas have been good to us, Mr. Riker. I'm pleased to repay you in this small way."

Marilas watched Riker make his way down the stairs, and then she moved to the tiny window and saw him collapse into the vehicle where his partner sat dozing. Checking the time, she quickly straightened up the room and sat down beside the unconscious man, gently attaching a monitor to his forehead that would keep her informed of his condition while she was in the lower floors of the house.

"Tyee, welcome," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand as she smiled at his handsome face. "Welcome to our home, and welcome to the Caritas."

Chakotay groaned when her cool hand touched his skin, his eyes fluttering open. "Kathryn?" he mumbled, struggling to see who had touched him. "You found me?"

"Yes, Chakotay," she whispered, using his name to comfort him. "You know I would never desert you."

He relaxed into the bed, feeling safe and secure, at last. Kathryn hadn't forgotten him. She was still there. His captain. His friend. His beloved Kathryn. He drifted into sleep with her name on his lips.

to be continued


	3. Sestwan Camp

Note: This is another story from the Belle Colony universe. It takes place about 15 months after Voyager's return (nine months after "The Caritas").

Summary: Living a new life as a man called Tyee, Chakotay works with the Caritas and worries about the Voyager family he left behind. While on a mission of mercy, he learns some interesting facts about the Belle Colony disaster that begin to give him hope for a better future.

Disclaimer: All things Voyager belong to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Sestwan Camp (in the Belle Colony universe)

by mizvoy

The first thing Chakotay noticed when he beamed down the Sestwan refugee camp was the familiar aroma of a temporary settlement. Most prominent was the odor of food being cooked over open fires, followed by the pungent stench of farm animals kept in the paddock in the middle of the camp, and then the ever-present smell of garbage and waste quickly buried just outside the camp perimeter.

The odor mixed with a cacophony of noise--children playing, parents scolding, animals bleating and yelping, women singing over their campfires, men discussing their work--and all of it reminded him of dozens of similar transitory sites he'd visited during his time as a Maquis cell leader and in his months as a member of the Caritas. He stood still a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings, when he heard someone approach and turned to meet him.

"Tyee, you've come in person as you promised." Rantoli, the Sestwan leader, held his hands outstretched in welcome. "You honor us with your presence."

"I keep my promises, Rantoli," Chakotay replied, extending his hands as well. "The Caritas sent what they could. It will help, but it won't be enough." He glanced around the camp, taking in the refugees' obvious desperation with a practiced eye.

"Whatever you've brought us, Tyee, we're thankful. We'll make do." The small alien stood beside Chakotay and gazed at the camp with him, shaking his head in despair as if seeing it for the first time and with a stranger's eyes. "You must think from these conditions that we're about to starve to death."

"I think you're managing to survive in an impossible situation, that's all."

"This way to the caves." Rantoli led him through the camp, chattering all the way about their travels and their experiences in dodging the war, but Chakotay barely listened. Instead, he carefully scanned the surrounding area. The camp was situated on the edge of a large river's floodplain, nestled against the towering bluffs where limestone caves offered both storage and safety to the refugees.

The planet was located in the midst of disputed territory that was claimed by both the powerful Union forces and the weaker, yet more tenacious Toroyans. The war between the two had devastated the Sestwani and other uninvolved peoples, and the Caritas tried to alleviate their suffering by providing, food, medicine, and supplies whenever possible.

The Sestwani had built their camp from a jumble of trash and debris scavenged from the spoils of the Union-Toroyan war and engineered into workable pieces of equipment. Besides the spoils of war, Chakotay noticed evidence of the camp's close proximity to Federation space in a half dozen Starfleet survival blankets, a Federation water purifier, the faded pattern of blue stars on the worn side of a cooking shack, and other pieces of equipment that had no doubt been salvaged from a recycle bin on some Starfleet outpost or purchased on the black market.

The Sestwani were not a race as much as they were a group of survivors, a varied Maquis-like mix of species including some whose home planets were part of the Federation: Ktarian, Antosian, Bajorans, a dozen humans, among others. As he walked through the camp, Chakotay heard snatches of Federation standard woven into their conversations like a bright thread of silver in a dreary, brown blanket.

He fought back the sensation of loss and homesickness he felt, reminding himself that he'd consciously chosen to come here. The Caritas leaders had objected when he'd insisted on making the delivery to the Sestwan camp himself, because the trip would bring him dangerously close to Federation space.

"The Sestwani actually travel inside the Federation, Tyee," Tom Riker had warned him. "If they figure out your true identity, they might decide the reward is more valuable than the supplies you offer them."

Chakotay had brushed those concerns aside. "I'm the one who promised Rantoli I'd bring the supplies, Tom. Besides, I doubt that a spy would put up with the kind of life the Sestwani live on the off chance that I might show up." They left unspoken the rumor that there was a former Maquis among Rantoli's band, although he could tell from Riker's eyes that he'd heard the rumor, too. "Besides, Chet Borlan will watch my back."

He hadn't told Riker about the thin smooth stone Rantoli had given him during their first meeting, preferring to keep it to himself. Now, as he walked through the camp, Chakotay could feel weight of the stone in his pocket, blood red quartz veined with gold that could only have come from the hills near his parents' house on Dorvan V. Etched into it was a close approximation of the ancient sign he'd seen twice before in his lifetime--both times when he had met the mysterious Sky People who had visited the Rubber Tree Clan on Earth.

"I was told," Rantoli had whispered during that dangerous meeting, "that if I gave you this, you would bring the supplies in person."

"I'll bring them myself," he'd promised, taking the rock and running his fingers reverently over the engraving.

The stone reminded him of the pain he'd felt when he'd had the visible portion of his tattoo had removed, a pain that had been physical, emotional, and spiritual. He'd worn the tattoo to honor his father, but now it was a symbol he no longer had the right to wear. This was the inevitable fate of an escaped criminal who had the blood of three hundred people on his hands. He had to take on the new identity of Tyee and leave Chakotay forever behind, or the bounty hunters would be a constant danger to himself and the Caritas. He had to sacrifice not only his name, but his heritage as well.

"You must stay for our celebratory feast, Tyee. My wife has prepared zouza, her specialty, and our other cooks have prepared dishes especially for the occasion. There is no better way to honor the Caritas for their generosity than to share the bounty with you."

"I'd be honored to stay." He thought to himself that the Sestwani should save the food for their own use, but he knew they needed to celebrate an event like this, even if it meant squandering some of their supplies. What really bothered him was being in a community like this camp; seeing the Sestwani's family atmosphere was pure torture to someone who had time and again lost everyone who was dear to him. He gave Rantoli a weak smile, "I accept on behalf of the Caritas."

They arrived at the cave that served as the camp's storehouse. Chakotay transmitted the appropriate coordinates to the orbiting Caritas ship and had the supplies beamed down in orderly bundles. Then he helped Rantoli and his people as they carefully inventoried the goods and stored for future distribution and use. By the time the work was complete, the small cave was nearly full and the sun was on a rapid descent into the horizon.

"You've brought us so much, Tyee!" Rantoli nearly danced as he locked the warehouse door. "I can't remember when the cave was so full of supplies."

"I wish I could have brought twice as much." Chakotay wiped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. "But, this close to the war, we could only risk sending one ship."

"Perfectly understandable." Rantoli practically skipped with joy as he led Chakotay back toward the residential area of the camp. "This is indeed a day for celebration, Tyee. Now that the war is winding down, perhaps we can hope to make this a permanent home, put in our gardens, and breed herds of animals to feed us."

"Let's hope you're right." While he didn't want to ruin Rantoli's hope, Chakotay had his doubts about the end of the war. Although the Toroyan defeat was inevitable, they were not about to give up the cause until every one of them had been captured or killed. Over the two decades of on-and-off fighting, their enemy, the Union, had destroyed all but one or two of their larger bases, yet the Toroyans continued to fight a guerilla war with small bands wreaking havoc on the Union's shipping lanes and keeping uninterested third parties like the Sestwani constantly on the move.

This camp was clearly transitory, ready to be abandoned quickly if the war careened in their direction. Home to about four hundred at a time, the rest of this Sestwani group roamed surrounding space in ancient vessels, picking through the spoils of battle for whatever could be salvaged. It was a precarious existence that could end in disaster in a moment's time, and yet they seemed to find a way to stay alive.

Depressed by the futility of the Sestwani's existence, Chakotay followed Rantoli in silence, keeping his doubts to him self as a feeling of dread crawled up his spine. He loved the work the Caritas accomplished, relished bringing medicine, food, and supplies to desperate people, but the inevitable "thank you" banquet only served to deepen his depression. He usually let someone else on the Caritas crew attend in his place, often Borlan, the man who had become his tacit partner, but this time he had an ulterior motive. This time he would attend alone in order to meet the person who had sent him the red quartz in his pocket.

"Please, Tyee," Rantoli said, gesturing at a camp chair by an open fire, "sit down and I'll bring refreshments."

Chakotay sat down and turned his attention to a study of the rest of the camp. Laughing flocks of children romped in the shared yards, showing off for the stranger who had come to give them gifts. One small Ktarian girl reminded him so much of Naomi Wildman that he had to swallow back the tears. He tried hard not to think of Voyager's crew, but the community feeling of the camp made it impossible.

A half dozen young women found a reason to walk past him and gave him shy, blushing smiles, hoping to catch his attention and perhaps snare his heart. Men went about their work, giving him a cursory nod as they passed in front of Rantoli's tent. Young mothers tended their babies, who stared at the stranger with open curiosity. Even the animals penned in the commons regarded him with placid interest.

Bubbling under all of the routine tasks going on in the camp was a slow-building crescendo of excitement, for it was truly a festive day for the Sestwani, a day when relief had come from an unexpected source, when someone had cared enough to help them. The fact that Chakotay was the embodiment of that help turned him into a hero and made him the center of attention.

Rantoli returned with a weak bitter brew that was high in alcohol content and handed it to Chakotay as he joined him by the fire. Chakotay sipped the ale tentatively and set the mug on the ground beside him as a group of five elders joined them for a relaxing talk as the final preparations for the meal were accomplished. He listened as they told their stories, and he answered their questions about his life, sadly spinning for them the artificial biography of the Caritas member named Tyee.

Chakotay thought of the red quartz in his pocket and wondered which person in the camp knew his true identity. As he listened to the elders' friendly banter, his eyes scanned the residents looking for a familiar face, listening for a recognizable voice. He schooled his expression and repressed his anxiety, telling himself that whoever the person was, he or she would approach him before the evening ended.

As the shadows lengthened in the setting sun, the group moved into the largest building where most of the inhabitants joined them for the celebratory feast. Besides a large variety of foods, there was music, dancing, acrobatic performances, speeches, and dramatic readings, everything that is part of the "feast cliché," as Tom Paris would describe it. While around him the emotions were light and happy, Chakotay felt his heart breaking at their squandering of their precious supplies. He promised himself that while his presence at this banquet was necessary, he would avoid any more of these "thank you" meals in the future. If someone wanted to meet with him surreptitiously, they would have to be more direct about it.

Chakotay was not just a loner, he was alone, a man apart, no matter where he went or who he was with. He was a friend to the other twenty members of the Caritas, but even among them, his true identity was known only by a handful of trusted friends—Chet Borlan, Ro Laren, Tom Riker, and the orphanage's eldest sister, Marilas, who had nursed him back to health.

The banquet ended with the presentation of a showy, flaming dessert that was enjoyed by everyone, especially the children who practically licked their plates to catch every sweet drop. Following the dessert, a special beverage was prepared for Chakotay, a drink elaborately concocted on a table in the middle of the room, obviously a rare and expensive draught reserved for the most exceptional occasions and the most extraordinary guests.

The steaming shot glass of clear liquid was delivered to Chakotay on a small silver tray, and he lifted the glass with great reverence, hoping that his anxiety was properly disguised. He desperately wanted to scan the drink with a tricorder and could hear dozens of cautionary voices in his head warning him about the danger of drinking or eating anything that was not also consumed by someone else.

He forced himself to smile as he studied the surprisingly cold and colorless liquid. If he paused to scan this drink with a tricorder, the Sestwani would be deeply insulted, of that he was certain. They received little respect from anyone in the quadrant and were using their precious supplies to honor him. That this drink was expensive and special was unquestionable, and he was certain that it probably carried a powerful "punch." He decided that this was one time he needed to take his chances.

Everyone, including Chakotay, stood as Rantoli formally toasted their benefactors, and all glasses were raised in tribute--a loud huzzah of gratitude. Chakotay downed the oily liquid in a heroic gulp and immediately realized that he'd made a serious mistake. Before he could lower the glass from his lips, before he could speak a word in alarm, his eyes glazed over and the world briefly blurred in a sickening vortex. Darkness enveloped him so quickly that he was unconscious before his body hit the floor.

Narcol. The name of the powerful narcotic was the first thought that came to Chakotay's mind when he heard the final seconds of the hypospray against his neck. Narcol was the drug of choice for bounty hunters, kidnappers, terrorists, and drug addicts throughout the quadrant because it brought on an instantaneous loss of consciousness followed by hours of absolute lethargy. It was during that state of apathy that the most desired influence of the drug was felt--absolute contentment and happiness, a total indifference toward whatever it was in real life that had burdened, troubled, or worried you--the perfect escape from reality.

The second thought that came to Chakotay's mind was that he had been captured by the authorities at last, turned in for the reward by the Sestwani in spite of the Caritas' generosity. He knew he should be worried that his captors might be the Cardassians, but the insidious languor of the drug made it impossible for him to feel apprehension. He struggled to open his eyes, moaned at the effort it took, and finally gave up.

"Don't hurry to wake up," an unfamiliar voice said beside him. "That was only the second dose of an-Narcol. I'll give the third in few minutes, and then we can talk." He smiled, amused that the woman would imagine that he'd care one way or other.

In his days as a Maquis, Chakotay had refused to use Narcol because of its addictive qualities. If not carefully administered, an overdose resulted in near instant death. Even worse, one dose could create an irreversible physical dependence unless three doses of the antidote, an-Narcol, was administered within twenty-four hours. Even those who escaped physical addition often struggled to put out of their minds the transitory moments of paradise the drug had given them.

He should feel relieved to know that his captors were already giving him the antidote, but he wondered why anyone would try to escape from such serenity and pleasure. The lure of the drug was, at the moment, irresistible, and he allowed himself to drift deeper into it as if he were snuggling into a feather bed--warm, soft, soothing. For the first time in over a year, he was happy and without a care in the world.

He found himself in a rural setting filled with the sights, sounds, and smells of a working farm. He recognized it as the orphanage where he'd lived during his three-month recovery from the abuse and beatings at the dilithium mine. He saw the faces of the children as they gathered around the dinner table, chatting about school, teasing each other about their innocent romances, joking with their "Uncle" Tyee, and sharing their childlike innocence with him. He heard their voices asking him endless questions as he worked in the fields, or chopped wood, or built shelves in a closet. The felt the shy friendship of the three sisters who ran the farm envelope him, and he relaxed as he witnessed again the benign trust and affection of the animals he tended, felt the sun on his skin, and shivered in the cool refreshing water of the creek's swimming hole.

The orphanage was a complex community, demanding a combination of administrative and parental expertise that the eldest sister, Marilas, handled with the smooth efficiency of a Starfleet captain handling the challenge of command. She had been a master at handling her work, the demands of the farm--what to plant, which animals to breed, whether to sell or store the crops--as well as the demands of the orphanage and keeping house, nurturing and disciplining the children, managing the endless purchase and preparation of food, doing the laundry, finding the money that seemed to evaporate into thin air.

His time at the orphanage had been peaceful and productive, so the drug first took him there. Marilas had called him by his real name while she tenderly nursed him back to health, had comforted him as his body fought against damage and infection, and had tirelessly encouraged him as he struggled to regain his strength. She was kind, strong, and gentle, but she had tended too many damaged children not to sense in him an injury too deep for her to soothe. As much as she'd wanted to help him, as much as she needed him to help her, she knew that as soon as he was able, he would leave and begin helping the Caritas in their work.

When the day had come, she'd given him a fierce hug. "I hope you find the peace you're looking for, Tyee," she'd said as she looked up at him with affection in her eyes. "And I hope you find Kathryn."

The sound of Kathryn's name had burned through him like fire. "Who?"

"When you were delirious with fever, you called me by her name. Was she your wife? A lover? A sister?"

He shook his head, unable to speak.

"She's still alive?"

"She's alive," he'd whispered.

"Then there's hope, Tyee. Don't ever give up hope."

The thought of Marilas' conversation brought him to the verge of depression, but the powerful drug drove him back toward a paradise much deeper in his past, to another strong woman who had encouraged him and given him strength. Kathryn Janeway.

New Earth.

Chakotay could smell the flowers that Kathryn had gathered on her insect hunts, large bundles of color that she'd carried home with glee each evening and spread throughout their tiny cabin with endless enthusiasm, naming each type and cataloging it in her growing database. Her scientific background had made the job a pleasant one for her, and from that time on, he associated her with flowers: delicate, beautiful, fragrant, and rare.

Sensations rushed upon him pulling him deeper and deeper into the drug's power, immersing him in treasured memories. He thought of how he had cut the trees to make lumber for their headboards and for her bathtub, and he smelled the fresh aroma of the sawdust and the tang of the sap as the trunks were turned into lumber. He relived the hard work of smoothing the surface of her bath tub into silky glass and the hard work of plowing and smoothing the ground for her garden. He walked beside her again through the dense forest as they named trees, animals, and birds like a twenty-fourth century Adam and Eve. He relished watching the gradual disappearance of the captain from Kathryn's behavior--first in dress, then in her hair, in the way they used each other's names, in the growing appreciation for their unexpected compatibility and mutual affection.

He was desperate to stay in the memory of New Earth where he was surrounded by the fragrance of flowers, the sound of Kathryn's voice, and the joy of her undivided attention. He found himself preparing to cut down the trees he had chosen for their boat, trees he had already thanked for their sacrifice, and that still stood in the forest, marked, waiting, never to be taken. In the false world created from the effect of the Narcol, he never had to let that moment of anticipation go. He could look forward to what might happen as an ever-receding future, just beyond his reach. Anything could happen. Anything.

The silky touch of Kathryn's hair in his hands, the smooth soft skin of her warm shoulders, the brief sigh of her appreciation as he soothed her knotted muscles, all of that once again foretold a coming intimacy between them, a blending of souls . . . but abruptly, the dream evaporated.

"Nooooooo!" Chakotay cried as the third hypospray tore him from his dream. The feathery strands of the vision dispersed, leaving him in the cold damp darkness of a Sestwani tent. His heart was breaking as he struggled to hang onto the image, but then he closed his eyes in despair. It was too late, had always been too late. New Earth was gone forever. Tears filled his eyes as he opened them to see the face of a human female bending over him.

So, it was to be a Federation prison.

"They call you Tyee," the woman said, "but I know you by another name."

The wave of nausea surprised Chakotay, but the woman expected it, helping him lean over the edge of the sleeping pad and aim the contents of his stomach into a small bucket on the floor. Reeling with dizziness and disgust, Chakotay lay back on the pad with a groan.

"Sorry I couldn't let the drug run its course." She wiped his face with a cool cloth, allowing a few drops of cold water to fall into his mouth. "When you're able to sleep it off before taking the an-Narcol, there's no nausea or dizziness. But I don't want the Sestwani to know about your real identity."

Chakotay glared at her. "You're a bounty hunter."

"Oh, no!" she assured him, pulling the blanket up and around his shoulders. "You have nothing to fear from me. I joined the Sestwani years ago, when I left the Federation to escape from the Dominion War. I don't want my companions to suspect that Tyee has a dangerous past. There are some desperate enough to look long and hard at the reward the Federation is offering."

"I don't get it." He relaxed into the warmth of the bed. "Why drug me if you don't intend to turn me in?"

"The Sestwani call Narcol 'a walk of pleasant memory.' They give it to people as a gift of gratitude, although they usually get the person's consent first. They decided to surprise you, and I volunteered to attend you here as you go through the process." She glanced around the small tent with a sigh. "Here, at least, we can speak our minds without fear of being overheard."

"You're the one who sent me the sacred red quartz from Dorvan V."

"Yes. I wanted to make sure you came to the camp in person."

He closed his eyes, fighting another wave of nausea. "Have I met you before?"

"We met once, briefly, when you came to see my brother at the Maquis overhaul base." She lowered her voice. "My brother, Luis. Luis Padrillo."

Hearing the name of the man who had planned the ill-fated Belle Colony raid took Chakotay completely by surprise and brought on a second round of nausea that was much worse than the first. The woman once again helped him empty his stomach into the bucket and lowered him gently into the blankets of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I feel terrible for putting you through this."

"I'm the one who should apologize to you," she answered as she daubed the cold sweat from his face with a soft towel. "It's bad enough to be brought back early from the Narcol, but to do so and be faced with a painful memory is brutal." She sat down beside him and tucked a blanket around his shoulders.

"You were at the overhaul base?"

"I was part of Luis's cell, although I spent most of my time taking care of the children while the others were gone on missions. I remember you, though." She gave him a shy smile. "I think it was the dimples. Or maybe your anger."

Chakotay closed his eyes. "I was an angry man, all right. At myself. Starfleet. My naïve parents. The Cardassians."

"It was an angry time."

He studied her face in the dim light. "So you're Padrillo's sister?"

She nodded, "My name is Alita."

"How did you escape the massacre?"

Her face clouded as she remembered the hundreds of Maquis cruelly murdered by the Cardassians at their lunar base. "I was pregnant and threatening to lose the child. Luis arranged to have me taken to a Bajoran colony where they had a good midwife to help me." She sighed. "I avoided the massacre, but I lost the child, anyway. I lost everything."

"I'm sorry, Alita. I still can't believe it happened."

She wiped a tear from her eye. "Once everyone was dead, I couldn't bear to return to the Federation. I decided to join the Sestwani, and I've been here ever since. When word of Voyager's return reached me, I knew I needed to talk to you. But, before I could start for Federation space, you disappeared. I was afraid they'd gotten you, too."

He snorted. "They tried."

"The Federation has reported that you're dead."

He could hardly breathe because of the pain in his heart. "They're right, Alita. Chakotay is dead."

She shook her head in anger. "The evidence is circumstantial, but they claim it's real. Do you remember the bounty hunter that took you from the mines? Johannsen? The Federation claims he killed you in a shed on a planet near Alloran Core. At least, they found evidence of phaser fire and remnants of your DNA."

Chakotay shrugged, unable to deny or confirm anything about his captor. "I don't remember much about him. That whole period of my life is a nightmare of disconnected images." He grew quiet, thinking about what she'd said. "Who found this evidence? How did they know where to look?"

"I don't know."

He struggled to sit up, managing to rest on his elbows so he could look Alita in the eye. "If the Federation really thinks I'm dead, why is there still a bounty on my head?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think they want irrefutable proof that you're dead."

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, thinking out loud. "Tom Riker was worried that Johannsen would tell someone what he'd done with me and that they'd come after the Caritas. I changed my name and removed the tattoo in an attempt to disappear, but Tom decided it would be an even better idea to talk to the guy again. But Johannsen had disappeared. The rumor was that he was the one who had been murdered by a Cardassian bounty hunter that he'd double crossed."

"Whatever the story is, he's right about Johannsen disappearing." She studied Chakotay's profile. "A Cardassian bounty hunter? Do you mean to say that Cardassia has a reward out for you, too?"

"That's what I've been told."

She frowned. "I don't think so."

He turned to look at her in disbelief. "The Cardassians want me dead or alive."

"Tyee, why would they care?" She leaned toward him. "Cardassia is in shambles since the war. Everyone who held a grudge against the Maquis is dead and gone, killed in battle or forced out of power. Besides, nothing the Maquis did can hold a candle to the devastation the war visited upon them later."

Chakotay was stunned. "Supposedly, this Cardassian, the one who killed Johannsen, had offered a big reward for me."

"So he had, Tyee." She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "But the reward was funded by someone inside the Federation."

"I don't understand."

She nodded. "That's why I'm here. You need to know the truth about what happened to you, both with Belle Colony and with the return of Voyager."

"Luis found out something about what happened?" He felt his heart begin to pound. "I always thought it was Seska."

She frowned, obviously confused. "Seska? Why in the world would she want to attack a Federation facility?"

Chakotay paused to think, realizing that the woman would have no way of knowing about Seska's being a spy. Starfleet would never publicize that kind of information to the general public. "You don't know that Seska was a Cardassian spy."

Her mouth fell open. "You're joking."

"She showed her true colors soon after we were stranded in the Delta Quadrant. She was actually a Cardassian in disguise."

"Wow. And you two were . . . ." Her eyes widened as her voiced tapered off. Of course, Alita knew of his love affair with Seska.

"Yeah, we were." He could feel his face grow warm with a blush. "Don't remind me."

"So you're thinking that Seska might have rigged the shield dampener in some way to cause the dome collapse."

"Something like that."

"Why would she want to destroy a research base like Belle Colony?"

"Who knows? Why did the Cardassians destroy Dorvan V or any of the other colony worlds?"

"You have a point." She grew thoughtful, resting her chin in her hand. "Seska built that device while you were on the overhaul base, didn't she? I remember Antonio talking about helping her."

"Antonio?"

"del Toro. The guy I was dating at the time."

"Ah. I'm sure she built it at the base, because our ship was in pieces at the time."

"When Luis got back from the raid, he grilled Antonio about the device. Antonio swore it was a simple shield dampener. He said he checked it personally after Seska finished with it, because he never trusted Seska."

"Antonio was a smart man." Chakotay couldn't mask his disappointment. "I wanted to believe she was responsible for the collapse."

"Because it would make you feel less guilty?"

He laughed. "I'll always feel guilty about it. I just think I'd feel better if I understood how it happened."

"Don't blame yourself for trusting her, Tyee. She had everyone fooled." She shook her head. "I'm still coming to terms with the fact that she was a Cardassian."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who did the most to facilitate her deceit."

"She was a tactical genius--everyone knew that." She patted his arm in sympathy. "She made herself indispensable to you."

He rolled his eyes. "In too many ways."

"You aren't the first man to be manipulated by a woman--and you won't be the last, either. And, for what it's worth, I think she was smitten by you, too."

He shrugged, disgusted by the memories of their affair. "My involvement with her taught me an important lesson about not getting caught up in relationships with my subordinates. She deliberately used me, and I'd hoped she'd had an ulterior motive for destroying Belle Colony."

"You don't think the explosion could have been a structural failure because of the caustic atmosphere? Fatigue, maybe?"

Chakotay shook his head. "Highly unlikely. Habitat domes were perfected hundreds of years ago and have lasted for decades in atmospheres even more caustic than that one."

"In that case, something caused the dome to fail. But what?" She frowned, a worried look on her face.

"I wish I knew."

"Well, whatever it was, I wouldn't blame it on the Cardassians. They don't care one way or the other about you or Belle Colony."

"You're sure? You really believe that it's the Federation that's after me?"

"Absolutely. That's another reason why I needed to speak to you in private." She lowered her voice. "You're in constant danger, Chakotay. They won't rest until they know for sure that you're dead."

There was a silence as Chakotay stared at her in disbelief. Finally, he choked out, "How do you know?"

"I may have been out of Federation space for awhile, but have my sources." She shook her head at his continuing skepticism. "Do you doubt me?"

"I don't remember you, Alita. You say you're Padrillo's sister, and I believe that. You remember too much about the Maquis for me to doubt you. But I served in Starfleet for twenty years, and I know that the Federation doesn't hire Cardassians to do their dirty work for them."

"You know that, hum?" She rolled her eyes and then whispered, "There are organizations in Starfleet that you're unaware of. Have you heard of Section 31?"

"Section 31? Of Article 14?" He saw the confusion on her face. "The Federation charter?"

"Is that where the group got the name?"

"It's not a group, Alita. It's a law that suspends the normal rights of citizens when it's necessary to protect the Federation in times of danger."

"You're memory is good." She smiled, patting his arm. "But it's also a covert organization, a top-secret part of Starfleet that works outside the law, doing whatever they want no matter what the cost." At his scowl, she said, "Starfleet denies it exists. Not even long-term officers like you are aware of it."

"You're sure of this Section 31?"

"Chakotay, I'm positive of it. And if Starfleet would subvert Federation rules on a routine basis during times of peace, why would they hesitate to hire a Cardassian to get rid of a troublesome traitor like you?"

Chakotay laughed. "Well, that's the question, isn't it? Why would they care?"

"Because they don't want anyone to find out the truth about what destroyed Belle Colony."

Chakotay felt his stomach rolling again, but swallowed back the bile. "You think they did something illegal there? Why?"

She shrugged. "I have no proof, but I have a question to ask you about the raid. Luis said that he didn't see a single living person while the two of you were inside the Colony's dome. Did you see anyone?"

"I've been over and over that mission a thousand times in the last eight years," he answered, his eyes sad. "I saw dozens of life signs on my tricorder."

"The tricorder, maybe. But did you see anyone in person? With your own eyes?"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Strange, don't you think? Like you, Luis only saw what he called 'computer ghosts.'"

"If you're saying that the base was uninhabited, I don't believe it. Someone was living there, Alita, whether we saw them or not."

"So you say." She sighed. "Luis also said that you had a contact in Starfleet who helped you get past Belle Colony's defenses, right?"

"That's right. He was an officer who was friendly with the Maquis cause. He gave me some access codes that allowed us to bypass Belle Colony's security net without setting off the alarms."

"It's very convenient that he came along at just the right time, don't you think?"

"There were lots of officers in Starfleet that were sympathetic with the Maquis."

"I'm curious. Did the same person who gave you those security codes years earlier also contact you on Voyager? Was he the same person who facilitated your escape from Federation space when you got home?"

"Yeah. Same guy."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"His voice was the same. He used the same password we'd used when I was in the Maquis, and he knew the details of the times we talked about Belle Colony, things only he would know."

She wasn't convinced. "Did the man give you a name to call him by?"

"Yes, although I doubt it was his real name."

"Let me guess. Was it Sloan?"

"Yeah." Chakotay's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Sloan was an infamous Section 31 operative during the Dominion War. He was someone we learned to distrust."

"Was?"

"He's been dead for years, Tyee. He was an evil man--really despicable. He helped release a horrible disease upon the Founders during the war, and then he committed suicide rather than give them the antidote."

"He must've been a different person."

"Two people with the same name? I guess it's possible."

"Unless it was a conspiracy." Chakotay closed his eyes as he considered the implications of her words. "If what you're saying is true, if there is a group that goes by Section 31, they want me out of circulation."

"Yes, Tyee. They don't want you to go to be arrested because a trial would allow the truth to come out."

"The truth?"

"I think they know why the dome failed, and they want the Maquis to take the blame for it. There is something strange about the way things went down, we know that. If you go to trial, the facts will come out. If you're dead, then the case will never come under close scrutiny."

Chakotay was nearly overwhelmed by the thought of such duplicity. "But you have no proof of this, Alita. You're guessing."

"You're right, I am. But my friends in the Federation think it's true, too. And your friends are on the same trail."

"My friends?" he opened an eye to look at her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What friends do you mean?"

Alita reached into a backpack and pulled out a sealed message chip. "I received this from some contacts inside the Federation. It's addressed to Tom Riker of the Caritas." She held it out to him. "It's from Kathryn Janeway."

He took the chip and stared at it, thinking that Kathryn had held this chip in her hands some weeks or months earlier. At last, he said, "What would Kathryn want from Tom Riker?"

"I wish I knew. Believe me, I would have read the message if I could have figured out how to bypass the encryption. The seal takes an exact DNA match or the message self-destructs."

Chakotay studied the elaborate device with admiration. "Clever. She must have had Will Riker seal it to make sure only Tom Riker would see it."

They both froze as they heard Rantoli's voice outside the tent. "Alita? Did Tyee enjoy his pleasure walk?"

"I think he was pleasantly surprised by your generosity," she replied, holding up a hand to silence Chakotay. "He's just coming around. Give us a few minutes."

Chakotay slipped the message chip into a pocket and struggled to sit up, his head still spinning from the aftereffects of the drug. "Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?" he whispered.

"That's all. I wanted to speak to you privately, and I wanted to put that message into your hands myself." She looked down at her hugely pregnant body. "As you can see, my current condition made it difficult for me to come to you."

Chakotay smiled. "When is it due?"

"You mean, when are 'they' due? Any time. The sooner the better."

"Good luck with the babies, Alita." He patted the chip in his pocket. "And thank you for this."

"I'm so glad that the Maquis on Voyager survived the war, even if they had to be gone seven long years to do so." He could see the glint of tears in her eyes. "I'm so glad to see you again, Chakotay."

He stood up and gave her a hug. "I'm glad to know you survived, too. And I'll think about what we've discussed tonight."

"Be careful out there," she said, sobbing as she clung to him. "Go with God, Tyee."

Chakotay beamed directly to Riker's office when his ship entered orbit around their home planet, quickly explained the situation, and handed Riker the message chip. "I have to hear what she says, Tom."

In the nine months since he and Ro had rescued Chakotay from the bounty hunter, Riker had never seen the man so emotionally distraught. "I'll do better than just let you hear it, Tyee. I'll let you listen to it alone." It took just a few seconds for Tom to open the message and load it onto his communication unit. He stood up and placed a comforting hand on Chakotay's shoulder. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Chakotay sat down at Riker's desk and studied the familiar Starfleet blue field that filled the computer screen. All he had to do was reach forward and press a button to start the playback, but he found it impossible to breathe, much less move. All the loneliness, suffering, and sorrow of the last fifteen months welled up inside and threatened to bring him to tears. Kathryn had begged him not to leave the Federation, had pleaded with him to let her help him fight the system for his freedom, but he'd trusted his secret contact, Sloan, more than he'd believed in the captain who had been his faithful friend for seven years. What had he been thinking?

At long last, he reached forward and started the message, pausing it again as soon as the familiar face of his friend filled the screen. She looked less exhausted and burdened than she had the last time he'd seen her, and her blue eyes bristled with intelligence as she peered into the screen. For a moment, Chakotay found it impossible to tear his eyes away from hers. She wore the uniform of a rear admiral and wore her hair pulled back into the despised bun at the nape of her neck, but what concerned him most was that she looked driven and sad, perhaps even depressed. He activated the message, steeling himself to hear her voice.

_"Tom, I hope you remember meeting me a few years ago while we were cadets. I've talked to Will Riker, who helped me code this message for your eyes only, and he says that I can trust you to help me in a matter of great importance. _

_"My first officer from Voyager, Chakotay, was smuggled out of Federation space and practically sold into slavery by an unsavory group that operates covertly inside Starfleet command. As much as I would like to hunt these traitors down and make them pay for what they did t him, I realize that to do so would do nothing to help him now, when he really needs a friend. _

_"I've heard that you have begun a new group called the Caritas that rescues lost Maquis and ministers to the victims of the Union-Toroyan war. I 'm asking you to rescue Chakotay. The Federation insists he was killed by a bounty hunter near Alloran Core." She paused, a mixture of anxiety and anger filling her eyes. "The evidence is circumstantial, and I prefer to think that it's wrong. I know he's alive; he has to be. _

_"Please, look for him, Tom. Find him and do whatever you can to help him. If you need money or supplies or influence, anything that I can give you, let me know immediately, and you'll have it. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him and worry about his situation. He's my best friend, and he desperately needs an ally to help him survive. _

_"That's my first request. My second has to do with the 'crime' he's been charged with--the destruction of Belle Colony during a Maquis supply raid some eight years ago. I've heard that your group has contacts inside Cardassia that have access to the records of the Obsidian Order. I need to know if they directed Seska, the Cardassian spy in Chakotay's Maquis cell, to destroy the Colony. She prepared the device that dampened Belle Colony's security shielding and allowed them to beam out the supplies. I can't help but believe that she might have used the device to damage the dome and cause the failure. She wouldn't have hesitated to kill innocent people in the pursuit of her duties. In fact, I think she was capable of doing almost anything. _

_"I've been investigating the Belle Colony situation when I can, calling in favors and using my influence to get information. In spite of my best efforts, Starfleet refuses to open their files to me, and I find roadblocks whenever I press them for more details. I saw the incredible destruction of the colony with my own eyes, yet I haven't even been able to get a listing of the people killed in the explosion." She paused to rub her forehead with her fingers. "There are times when I wonder if Starfleet did anything to investigate what really happened that day or if they just blamed the Maquis and moved on. I don't want to believe that they would cover up something like this, but this covert group is capable of anything, Tom. I don't want to believe that Starfleet would do something so deceitful, but if Seska isn't responsible, then an 'inside job' is really the only other viable option to explain what happened. _

_"I plan to come to Draxxon next July," she mentioned a specific stardate, "and would like you to meet me there with whatever information you can find about Seska and the Belle Colony raid. It's outside Federation space, and I'm sure you'll be safe if you meet me there. _

_"You probably think I've lost my mind, Tom, but I can't help but believe in Chakotay's innocence. I worked with him every day for seven years and know in my heart that he would never have done something like this. I suspect that there is more to this situation than meets the eye, and anything you can find out will help me. If I don't see you on Draxxon, be assured that I'll continue to Cardassia personally and attempt to secure the information on my own. For whatever you can do, Tom, I thank you in advance. _

_"If you can do nothing else, please find him, Tom. Find him and keep him safe until I'm able to find out the truth about this impossible situation. _

_"Janeway out." _

Chakotay crossed his arms on the top of the desk and buried his face in them. He could feel his tears soaking through the sleeves of his shirt as her voice faded, and, for the first time since he'd secretly beamed away from Voyager, he abandoned himself to his misery.

He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to leave everything and everyone he cared for behind, hadn't taken the time to think things through during those frantic moments after their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant. Sloan had contacted him almost immediately, warning him that the Federation had an airtight case against him, and Chakotay had conceded his guilt without a second thought. At the time all he could think about was protecting Voyager's crew by leaving before they could do anything that could be construed as aiding and abetting a felon.

The nine months after his departure were a haze, a struggle to stay alive against overwhelming odds. The months he spent in the dilithium mine would forever be the low point of his life; at the end of his time there, he was seriously contemplating suicide as a favorable avenue of escape. Once Riker found him, he'd found a degree of happiness. The time with the sisters and the orphans had restored his soul, and his work in providing assistance to other innocent victims of war helped him feel better about all he'd done wrong in his life. But the price was too high. He missed his Voyager family more than he thought possible. He missed Kathryn most of all.

He lifted his head and stared at the monitor's blue screen before he ran the message again, this time focusing on the sound of Kathryn's voice and the expressions on her face rather than the meaning of her words. He wanted to bask in the memories the message revived in him, to immerse himself in the feelings that the sound of her voice created, of home, of acceptance, of safety, and friendship. The tears streamed down his face as she spoke, and he wished he could tell her he had already been rescued by the Caritas, that he was alive and well, so that she wouldn't have to worry any longer. But as long as the question of his guilt was unresolved, it was better for everyone to believe that Chakotay was dead, even Kathryn.

And then, he felt an unreasoned surge of apprehension. What did she think she was doing? Did she have any idea whose toes she was stepping on? Had she heard of Section 31 and how ruthless they could be? They had somehow killed three hundred innocent people, sold him into slavery, and sent hired Cardassians after him to be sure he was dead. What would they do to her if she came close to uncovering whatever it was they wanted to hide about the Belle Colony explosion?

"Let me go," he said to the woman on the screen. "Accept the fact that Chakotay is dead." But he knew she would never listen and would never give up, no matter what the cost.

Later, once Chakotay had control of his emotions, he invited Riker and Ro into the office to view the tape with him.

"Has she lost her mind?" Riker turned to the other two in disbelief. "Kathryn Janeway is coming to Draxxon? Starfleet admirals don't visit dumps like that!"

"We got used to dealing with the unsavory element in the Delta Quadrant," Chakotay responded with a shrug. "She knows what to expect, and she won't come alone."

Ro shook her head. "If Section 31 is behind what happened on Belle Colony, they'll eliminate her, too, even if she is an admiral. They don't let anything or anyone stand in their way."

Riker agreed. "I'll bet she's already been warned about her investigation into the disaster. She admits that she's visited the Colony's ruins, and I know for a fact that it's off limits. She says that the authorities are trying to limit her access to the files, yet she doesn't seem ready to quit. She's going to end up in hot water, Tyee."

"There's no way to stop her," Chakotay answered. "The best we can do is get the information she wants and keep her from going to Cardassia."

"It's just that I hate going to a dump like Draxxon," Riker sighed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Why couldn't she have picked someplace less disgusting?"

"Can we find out about Seska?" Chakotay wondered, laughing at the look on Riker's face.

Ro smiled. "Not to worry, Tyee. I know who can find out what we need to know in plenty of time to meet her."

He thought ahead, imagining what this Draxxon must be like. "I'm coming with you."

"Of that, Tyee," Ro said with a wink, "we had no doubt."

After Chakotay returned to his ship, Ro and Riker decided on how to get in touch with their Cardassian contact. They would swing by a Cardassian outpost on one of their routine scavenging trips, pick up the information, and then stop by Draxxon on the way home.

Ro lifted the bottle of beer she was sipping and gave Tom a threatening look, "He shouldn't meet with Janeway in person, you know."

"I know," Riker agreed. "He'll have to keep his distance. It will be hard on him to see her and not be able to talk to her."

Ro's eyes softened. "Do you think he realizes how much he loves her?"

Riker snorted. "Not any more than Janeway realizes how much she loves him. I think their feelings are all tangled up in their command relationship and the desperate situation in the Delta Quadrant. He left before they had a chance to work through their feelings."

"Well, we just have to be sure he doesn't do something stupid."

"Yeah," Riker smiled. "If he goes back to the Federation before we get this whole mystery resolved, the two of them might very well end up spending the rest of their lives in prison."

"At least they'd both be alive."

"Sometimes, Laren, a good death is preferable to a bad life."

"I don't believe that for a minute," she laughed. "And neither do you, Tom Riker."

"Point taken." He raised his bottle of beer in salute, "To a long life."

Back on his ship, Chakotay secluded himself in his quarters, turning off the lights in favor of a few candles and the reflected light of the planet below. His medicine bundle had been lost during his ordeal in the dilithium mine, but he'd managed to replace it while at the orphanage, holding back small amounts from his meager earnings to purchase the akoonah he used for his vision quests. Since then, he had gradually filled the bundle with items of power.

He knelt on the deck and reverently opened the bundle. There, beside the akoonah, lay a link of the chain that had bound his hands at the dilithium mine and the red quartz stone Alita had brought from Dorvan V. There, too, was the paw of an oolast that had been caught in a trap Chakotay had set to catch the animal that had been breaking into the grain silo. The small animal had chewed off the leg that was in the trap, leaving behind the paw as evidence of his courageous and defiant sacrifice. Chakotay had kept the cast-aside appendage as a symbol of his own vanished life.

Chakotay pulled the isolinear chip out of his pocket and placed it beside the other items, leaving his hand on it a moment as he thought about it being in Kathryn's hands. He smiled as he put the treasures into the bundle, closed it, and put it back on the shelf. Most nights, he spent hour or more meditating before he retired, opening his mind to what he considered to be his real life, the life of the spirit world, but this night was different.

This night, the vibrant, drug-induced memories of New Earth haunted him. He stretched out on his bunk and with a sigh of satisfaction allowed himself to remember everything in total detail about narcotic dream that had seemed like as real as their original exile on the planet. He could smell the flowers in the cabin on New Earth, could see Kathryn sitting across from him at their work table, could feel the grains of sand in his fingers as he created his painting, and could hear the laughter in Kathryn's voice as she talked about her garden, the plants she was studying, and the inquisitive monkey that seemed to follow her around like a pet.

He should be angry with the Sestwani for subjecting him to such a dangerous narcotic without his permission, but Chakotay felt only gratitude and appreciation for their perilous gift. In his "walk of pleasure" he had revisited his personal paradise and, as a result, felt happier and more peaceful than he had in months. It was as if he had truly been with Kathryn, as if he'd spoken with her and been reassured of her lasting affection.

He remembered how she had looked and the sound of her voice from the computer screen and counted the days until he could see her in person on Draxxon. It didn't matter that he wouldn't be able to talk to her nor was it important that his life was still endangered. The fact that Kathryn continued to care about him and believe in him made his life worth living.

He smiled and slowly drifted off to sleep. In his dreams, hope was still alive.

to be continued


	4. Draxxon

NOTE: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: In "Belle Colony," Chakotay disappeared when Voyager returned to Federation space, preferring to be productive elsewhere than face prosecution for his involvement in a fatal Maquis raid on Belle Colony, but Janeway believes he's innocent and isn't giving up. Not yet, anyway. Her investigation leads her to Draxxon. J and C (This story takes place three months after the events in "Sestwan Camp")

Draxxon Trading Outpost (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

"The pub you're looking for is that way." The transport pilot nodded toward a solitary cluster of dimly-lit buildings in the distance as he recounted his credits with dirty, three-fingered hands. He pocketed the money and started toward his ship, tossing a last comment over his shoulder. "But don't blame me if Tom ain't there."

"Well, thanks for the ride and the directions--," Kathryn Janeway replied, adding quietly, "for what they're worth." She glanced in the direction he'd indicated. The only visible sign of habituation was the small collection of lights glimmering through the storm. Where else would the pub be?

She fastened her parka and headed for the exit of the shabby landing station, relieved that the transport vessel had held together long enough to deliver her to the surface. Feeling a little disoriented because of the ship's malfunctioning gravity plating, she muttered, "That thug should be arrested for flying cargo in that wreck, much less carrying passengers in it."

The unpleasant trip to the remote planet had reminded her how lucky she was to travel through space in well-built, quadruple redundant Starfleet ships. She knew it was necessary to arrive on Draxxon without fanfare, but she promised herself that from now on she'd check out the transportation more carefully, and she hoped that the rest of the team hadn't experienced a ride as objectionable as hers had been.

Janeway stopped at the building's entrance and took a deep breath of air before donning her breathing gear and goggles. She'd been warned about worlds like Draxxon from her first weeks at Starfleet Academy. Marginally habitable and on the farthest fringes of known space, they were the haven of criminals, pirates, refugees, maniacs, and every other sort of misfit, places that were to be considered off limits and extremely dangerous. In her thirty-year Starfleet career, she had managed to avoid visiting even one of them in the Alpha Quadrant.

Even so, she was used to them. In her seven years on Voyager, she'd learned to use cesspools like Draxxon to her advantage and had even come to appreciate their lawlessness. For that experience, she was now extremely grateful. She took her first few steps outside, hoping the breathing mask was filtering the enough sand out of the air to keep it from filling her lungs. She didn't want to think about the pollution pervasive in such unregulated settlements, trusting in the doctor's expertise to rectify any physical damage once she returned to her ship.

She glanced upward into the swirling clouds, imagining the Delta Flyer hiding behind the planet's moon. Tom Paris was probably slouched at the helm playing video games on the view screen as he awaited their signal for a beam out. Once they had the information they wanted, their pretense as simple space travelers could be dropped in favor of the expediency of a Starfleet transporter. She hoped it happened sooner rather than later.

Draxxon's classification as a "marginally habitable" environment was easy enough to understand. If this was the most livable region on the planet, Janeway shuddered to think what the worst region was like. She was already freezing cold, in spite of her multi-layered clothing and heavy parka. The drifts of snow were gray with dirt, while sleet that was liberally mixed with grit blew past her in a steady, horizontal maelstrom that would take the skin off of her eyelids if she lowered her goggles.

There was no sun and no vegetation in sight, just a flat plain punctuated by long low bluffs, all done in depressing shades of tan and gray. And the daylight was constantly filtered through a thick layer of cloud, creating an eternal midnight no matter what the time of day. The dim lighting between the landing station and the rest of the settlement did little to dispel the gloom.

She picked her way through the unpaved street, trying to avoid the ruts and craters filled with brackish, oily water and random pockets of refuse. The word "street," she decided, was an inaccurate term for what was little more than a path or an alley. In fact, the only thing that distinguished the street from the fields and the jumble of shacks that made up the town was the trash that was piled along its ditches and the haphazard column of dark, deserted buildings lined up a few yards behind that.

The desolation was typical of such posts. As previous buildings had become inhabitable or damaged, the shortsighted breed living here had simply moved farther from the landing station and built something new, creating a constantly growing ghost town like those she'd read about in the old West. She glanced at the empty buildings and imagined the type of criminal element that might live there. Were they watching her as she toiled toward the pub, trying to decide if it would be profitable to mug her? She quickened her pace.

Janeway was relieved that the breathing device didn't just filter out the sand, it also minimized the pervasive stench of rotting garbage. The sight of the undulating, insect-ridden piles of rubbish was enough to turn her stomach. She looked forward to getting this meeting behind her and spending a good hour or two soaking the grit and the disgusting odor out of her skin in a tub of hot soapy water.

Only the prospect of finding important information about the Belle Colony mystery made it possible to tolerate Draxxon's awful living conditions.

Janeway soon arrived at the outpost's currently occupied buildings and paused to take in the lay of the land. The larger commercial buildings, which had been constructed from discarded cargo crates and salvaged chunks of derelict ships, were backed into a bluff a few yards from the street as if they were huddled together in a vain effort to keep their heat from escaping into the atmosphere. Each dwelling had a rear wall of rock and a single entry with only one narrow filthy window and nothing else on the exterior to distinguish one building from another.

Even so, the pub was easy enough to find. A raucous Klingon drinking song spilled from its open door and was punctuated by a swelling counterpoint of voices. Patrons walked into and out of its narrow entrance in a steady stream, many of them in a wretched state of inebriation and a few passed out along the edge of the street. Janeway picked her way over the trash-filled ditch and approached the door, putting one hand on the knife beneath her parka and the other on the phaser strapped to her thigh, just in case.

At first, she was relieved to be out of the relentless snowstorm and into the relative warmth of the building. She reached up and pushed her goggles onto her forehead and the hood of the parka back from her face as she surveyed the contents of the pub. The noise of the place hit her like a physical presence, making her ears ring and vibrating through the floor and up her legs like a badly aligned impulse engine. The smoke-filled air swirled in tiny whirlwinds as the gale found every possible crack in the walls and ceiling, bringing with it fine particles of sand that coated every flat surface in the room.

A long bar stretched along the right wall, faced by a "dance floor" and a scattering of tables that were currently occupied by an assortment of aliens dressed in tattered clothing and staring at her as if she were their next meal ticket. She loosened the mask from her nose and mouth, pushing it down around her neck, only to experience a wave of nausea from the stench that assaulted her. Most of the smoke in the room was escaping from the two coal-burning stoves that glowed in the back of the bar, but the rest came from the drug pipes and cigarettes favored by the clientele. And if the acrid smoke wasn't enough, the room reeked with the odor of unwashed bodies, a filthy floor, and the smell of fried food. Even leola root smelled better.

In the open area between the bars and tables, three couples swayed gently, ignoring the rhythm of the music while participating in what could only be called foreplay. A few members of the crowd watched the couples groping each other, their faces lit with obvious lust. Four booths lined the front wall of the building to her left, but whether they were occupied and by whom, or what, was impossible to tell from her position just inside the door.

She made her way to an available spot near the middle of the bar, slid between two hulking patrons, and signaled the bartender.

He sidled down the bar and stared at her. "Woman human? You lost?"

"Horlas," she replied as she leaned on the bar's pitted black surface, slowly pulling off her mittens and pushing the hood farther back from her face. "Straight up."

"Pay first, then horlas," the bartender growled, measuring her with his red-rimmed eyes. His breath worsened her already queasy stomach as he leaned toward her and studied her face. She wondered if he ever bothered to wash his grimy hands and then tried not to think about the fact that those hands would be pouring the horlas she would be drinking.

"Do you take Barelin credits?" At the man's nod, Janeway reached into her pocket for a pearl-shaped droplet. "This ought to do me for the night."

"If three rounds a night for you." The sneer he gave her was more like a grimace, and she noticed that his teeth were a colorful rotten purple. He took the credit with a snarl, held it up to the light, and started to walk away.

"Just a minute," she said, leaning toward him this time, lowering her voice to a level barely discernable over the noise. "How about only one round and some information? I've been told I could find Tom here."

"Tom? Man human? You not Tom type." His eyes, a strange shade of green, were cold and unsettling as he took her measure again, running his eyes up and down her body like a pimp appraising a prospective hooker and finding her woefully inadequate. "Short okay, but little zoombas."

Little zoombas? Janeway repressed the urge to box his ears and gave him an imperious frown instead. "Just let him know Kate's here. He's expecting me."

He shrugged and smiled skeptically before he shuffled toward the back of the room. She spent a few minutes studying the room through the grubby mirror behind the bar, but he quickly returned with a glass filled with milky horlas and set it down in front of her. "Last booth," he replied, nodding at the far wall and studying her more closely, curious about the woman now that she'd been granted an audience with the enigmatic human. "Always Tom face away from door."

She nodded and sipped the powerful drink, hoping that the doctor's medication would prevent intoxication as completely as he had promised. She turned casually, leaning back against the bar so she could survey the crowd a second time.

There were eight tables against the far wall, three of which were filled with a variety of aliens playing rastana, a form of cut-throat poker she'd once attempted at the Academy and promised herself she'd never play again. Three other tables were filled with "businessmen" probably attempting to sneak contraband into Federation space or trying to fence stolen goods out of it. The other two tables were occupied by several working girls wearing just enough clothing to prevent an arrest on an indecency charge on earth. Janeway shuddered to think what the sandblast outside would do to their exposed skin. Prospective johns, well plied with drug and drink, negotiated raucously for a few hours in the women's dubious graces.

Between the bar and the tables, the three couples continued to dance, turning slowly as they explored each other's bodies. The woman dressed in red raised her head slightly and caught Janeway's eye. Her Klingon forehead ridges were momentarily visible in the light before she buried her face in her partner's neck. Janeway nodded with satisfaction. B'Elanna and Harry were in place.

Five minutes later, halfway through her horlas, a dark-skinned man entered the pub and stumbled to a spot at the bar nearest the door, demanding immediate service and promising a bloody result if he were not served at once. When he pushed his hood back, a close fitting cap concealed his Vulcan ears as he turned his emotionless, red-rimmed eyes to hers. Tuvok was in place.

It was time. She downed her drink in a gulp and dropped the empty glass on the bar before she started past the three booths toward the dark one in the corner. She made her way across the bar slowly and unsteadily, discovering that walking in the disgusting primordial goo on the floor was like attempting ballet in magnetic boots.

The first booth held a hooker already entertaining her john while her next trick watched them intently. The second was occupied by four drug addicts busy smoking from a shared water pipe, their eyes unfocused and glazed over. The third booth contained two silent men, one sitting with his back to the wall, intently watching the crowd and the other sprawled face down on the table, probably listening to the noises approaching the booth in the corner. Tom's men, she realized, security men watching his back.

She knew better than to glance at any of the booths' occupants or pause to hear a word they said. In a place like this, it would take little more than that to warrant a swift shiv in the ribs.

When she reached the high wall that separated the third and fourth booths, she paused and waited for the sole occupant to acknowledge her presence and give her permission to sit down.

The man sat with his back toward her, his head cloaked by the dark shadows of his cowl, his arms crossed on the table with his hands hidden in the sleeves of his robe. The entire bar was visible to him through a darkened convex mirror positioned above him in the corner. He glanced at her over his shoulder and motioned toward the other bench.

Even after she was seated across from him, his face remained hidden. He pulled a gadget from his sleeve, positioned it in the middle of the table, and activated it. She realized it was a portable jamming device designed to thwart unwanted surveillance, increasing their chances for a private, unmonitored conversation. Once its red light pulsed slowly, he raised his head and looked at her. "Long time, no see."

"Nearly thirty years," she replied. "I'm surprised you remember me at all."

"It isn't often that a Riker lets a beautiful young woman walk away from a date without a fight. Even a blind date." They had once been set up with each other while at the Academy, but Janeway had been too distracted by her studies to stay the whole evening, even though she had found him extremely appealing.

"You flatter me." She couldn't help but study his face, taking in the graying goatee, the white scar that ran across his left cheek, and the sightless left eye. She realized that no one would confuse this version of Will Riker with the one who had recently married Deanna Troi.

"Medical care in Cardassian prisons is notoriously poor." He reached a hand up and traced the scar self-consciously. "I assume my 'brother' looks much better than I do."

"He hasn't survived prison abuse the way you have."

Tom Riker sat quietly, studying his hands. "Did you go to the wedding?"

"Will and Deanna's? I wasn't invited."

"Neither was I." She could hear the bitterness in his voice as he gave her a wry grin. "But then I gave up on her when I joined the Maquis."

Janeway was touched by his loss and wished she could think of something to say that would comfort him. Deanna Troi had suggested that she contact Tom Riker. His years on Cardassia would make it easy for him to find out if Seska had been ordered to destroy Belle Colony, but Janeway sensed that to mention anything to him about Deanna Troi would be a grievous error. "I'm sorry things worked out so poorly for you."

"Yeah, well." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a PADD. "I did the best I could to find the information you wanted, but there isn't much to look through. The Obsidian Order's records from before the Dominion War are in shambles. And there are no survivors that I know of to ask about it."

She held out her hand. "It may help more than you realize."

"They never mention Seska by name, of course," he said as she perused the information. "By process of elimination, I was able to determine that she was one of those two possible operatives."

"Based on what process of elimination?"

"A correlation between activities reported by their spies and the activities we know Chakotay's cell was responsible for."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know what Chakotay's cell did all those years ago?"

"I was in the Maquis, remember? I have access to that sort of information."

She nodded, accepting the truth of his words. "And Belle Colony?"

"Well, that was an even bigger problem. There was no report made by any operative regarding a mission to destroy Belle Colony."

"Damn."

"Don't despair. It looked to me that both of these operatives had pretty free rein to do whatever damage they could when the opportunity presented itself. And besides, Chakotay's cell went to the Badlands immediately after the colony was destroyed. That quick departure may have prevented Seska from making the report if, in fact, she caused the explosion."

Janeway shook her head. "She caused it. There's no other explanation."

"Perhaps it was a flaw in the dome's construction."

"Impossible. I checked the dome's material myself." She remembered vividly the day she and Harry Kim had beamed down to the planet's surface in order to collect samples of the dome's debris. The swirling, caustic atmosphere had brought visibility to zero, and the mountain of shattered dome fragments had been as treacherous to walk upon as slick piles of broken glass. Janeway was still haunted by a toy box she'd come across with a baby doll on top, its head missing, its skin half eaten away by the acid rain. "The atmosphere caused a predictable amount of erosion in the dome material, but nothing severe enough to create an explosive failure."

"Well, if it's any comfort to you, the Order did make note of the explosion after it appeared on the Federation news."

She looked up with interest. "What did they say?"

He took the PADD and scrolled to the page. "They don't refer to it as Belle Colony, of course. Here it is, 'Station SF47 PC exploded, all hands lost. Emissions halted.'"

"Emissions? What emissions?" She took the PADD from him and read the cryptic message again. "I never heard about any 'emissions' from the Colony, did you?" She grew thoughtful. "SF might be Starfleet, but what's this PC supposed to mean?"

Riker shrugged. "No idea."

"Tom, Belle Colony was a Federation colony, not a Starfleet research station."

"So you say. Apparently, the Cardassians didn't make a distinction."

"Everything I've ever read about the colony indicated that its mission was to mine rare trace elements from the atmosphere."

"And I'm sure they were doing that."

"But . . . ." She studied his face. "You think there might have been a covert tactical mission there, as well? One with 'emissions'?"

"I never said that, Kate."

Her eyes were troubled. "It's unprecedented for Starfleet to allow families anywhere near a research installation testing something volatile or controversial enough to merit an enemy attack." Exasperated, she studied the PADD again. "If the Cardassians believed that there was a covert mission underway, and especially if they felt the technology was a threat to their security, they might want it eliminated at any cost."

"Stranger things have happened. Can you say there wasn't something hidden there?"

She sighed, wondering how such a topic could even be suggested to her Starfleet contacts without setting off a series of alarms. "At least you've proven to me that Belle Colony was important enough to the Obsidian Order to make note of its destruction. That's something." She looked up, determined to push on. "All I have to do is find out whether there was a covert mission or not."

"Good luck on that." There was a period of silence as she read through the report a second time. Finally, Tom spoke again, his voice more friendly than before. "I don't really need to ask you why you're doing this, do I?"

"Probably not." She could feel her face get warm under his steady gaze. "It was my job to get Voyager's crew safely home, and I won't finish that job until the whole crew is home."

"You got Chakotay home the same as the rest of the crew." He looked over his right shoulder and then leaned toward her. "He decided to disappear rather than face prosecution—his choice, not yours."

"He's innocent, Tom," she answered, just as adamant. "And there was never an adequate investigation into the explosion, a fact that is beginning to look pretty suspicious to me. Starfleet let everyone assume it was caused by the Maquis ship seen leaving the area. I'm just trying to find out why they'd do that."

"Is that all you're doing?"

"That's all."

He laughed, an unconvinced gleam in his eye. "You two worked together a long time. Perhaps the command relationship was more intimate than you've ever admitted?"

She shook her head. "That isn't it."

"It wouldn't be the first time the captain became involved with a first officer. He's a handsome, charming rascal, just the type to keep a renegade admiral like you in check."

"You don't even know him," she started to say, only to stop short. Tom Riker was one of the few Maquis to survive the Dominion War, plus he had the added distinction of being a former Starfleet officer, credentials identical to Chakotay's. Was it possible that Riker had been one of the people who had helped her former first officer disappear? She narrowed her eyes. "You've seen him."

Tom simply bowed his head and studied the device on the table, turning it and idly examining its settings. "Did you bring the payment we agreed upon?"

Knowing better than to push him for more information, Janeway reached into her pocket, glancing around the smoky bar with renewed interest. Was it possible that Chakotay was here, watching them? She slid him a handful of Barelin credits. "Have you or your people considered petitioning to reenter the Federation?"

He laughed. "Why would we do that?"

"For one thing, to get away from places like this." When she saw his scorn, she said, "You prefer lurking around here to the Federation?"

"I prefer to retain my freedom. And besides, no one really lives here, Katie. I'm only here to meet you." She could tell he was uncomfortable and that he wanted to bring the conversation to a quick end. "It's been a pleasure to see you again. Let me know if I can help you find any more information."

She blurted, "If you see Chakotay, tell him to reconsider his decision."

Giving her a rueful smile, he said, "Katie, will you never give up hope?" He picked up the device, deactivated it, and put it in his pocket. "Good luck in the rest of your investigation. You're going to need it."

"Thanks, Tom. Take care of yourself." She watched him as he arranged his cloak around his face and neck, stood up, and walked quickly toward the door, followed by one of the men who had been sitting in the third booth. Once he was gone, she reactivated the PADD and poured over the scanty facts time and again, forgetting that the plan had been for her to follow Tom out at once.

Harry and B'Elanna had proceeded to the exit and were loitering in the street outside the pub entrance. Tuvok leaned on the bar beside the door, waiting for Janeway to leave ahead of him. All three of her accomplices were anxious to get away from this awful planet and back on the Delta Flyer, but they couldn't contact the Flyer until the admiral left the pub.

The delay was innocent. Janeway had no ulterior motive for reviewing the report other than simple curiosity about the "emissions" the Cardassians had picked up from Belle Colony. Her presence in the pub at that fateful moment, she learned later, was purely coincidental.

The violence began when an ugly and extremely inebriated Nausican started shouting profanities and then stood up, tossing his chair into the patrons playing rastana at the next table. The innocent victims immediately took their revenge on the Nausican and the others at his table by hitting them with chairs, bottles, and any other projectiles they could lay their hands on. In less than ten seconds, the entire pub exploded into a brutal free-for-all complete with random phaser fire.

Janeway didn't panic. She'd been in bar brawls before and knew that the pub owners probably had bouncers who would be able to restore order in a matter of moments. She decided it would be safer to remain huddled in the corner of the booth and wait out the fight rather than make a dash through the roiling mass of combatants for the door.

She realized that she'd made a tactical error when she heard the distinctive whine of a phaser on overload. The crowd, also hearing the unmistakable warning noise, stopped fighting at once and made a unified rush for the door, pushing Tuvok out ahead of them. Janeway, however, had no such opportunity for escape.

The blinding flash and deafening roar of the exploding phaser threw her against the wall of the pub with such force that she briefly lost consciousness. She gradually became aware of a person leaning over her, carefully adjusting her breathing mask over her mouth and nose.

Janeway blinked, but the acrid smoke made it impossible to see the person's face, which was in any event already covered by his own protective gear. He shook his head and admonished her, his voice muffled, "Hold still. You need this or the poisonous gases will kill you."

She relaxed, allowing him to position the mask and then pull the goggles over her eyes. "Who . . . who are you?" she demanded, still groggy.

He ignored the question as he lifted her into his arms and turned to peer into the pandemonium that had been the pub. Most of the roof had been blown away and what remained was burning furiously, dropping globs of flaming matter into the squirming crowd of injured patrons trapped on the floor. He hesitated and then turned back toward the booth.

Centered over the table was a narrow window with panes that had been carefully smoked and sealed. The man shifted her weight slightly so he could speak into her ear.

"Kathryn, do you have a phaser?" he shouted.

She stared at him, confused. Had he called her Kathryn? "What? A phaser?" She pushed her arm through the sleeve of her parka and felt for the lump on her right thigh. She was relieved to find the phaser still there and quickly pulled it out of its holster to show him.

"Blow out the window," he ordered, nodding at the wall.

She fumbled with the setting, aimed the phaser, and fired, missing all but the frame of the window and showering both of them with debris from the wall.

The man laughed. "Close enough." He stepped onto the table, balanced himself carefully, and then kicked the window out of the frame, stepping back as the external air was sucked into the room by the oxygen-hungry fire.

When Janeway hid her face in his neck, her still-befuddled mind told her that this was someone she knew, that the faint scent of sandalwood she could smell through her mask was a familiar and welcome aroma. Had Tom Riker somehow returned to save her from the disintegrating pub?

She pulled away and tried to see the man's face, but the light was simply too dim. He seemed determined to escape from the pub as quickly as possible. As he stepped back onto the table, she glanced over his shoulder only to see the barrels of horlas behind the bar ignite in cascade of liquid fire. And then she was standing beside him, perched on the narrow window sill and looking into the blizzard outside. She could feel the fury of the icy gale pulling at the fur lining of her parka's hood.

"It's quite a drop," he warned her, looking down into the ditch that surrounded the building. "Hold on tight." With that, they were airborne, landing a few seconds later with a bone-jarring thud that plunged her into oblivion.

She had no idea how long the two of them lay in the ditch before she finally became aware of her surroundings. She was on her back, and her rescuer was face down beside her, both of them lying in the depression between the pub and the street, their fall cushioned by many layers of trash that had collected there over countless years. Above her, the wall of the pub seemed to rise endlessly into the sky, only now flames were licking out of the window and sparks from the growing fire within were shooting into the sky and settling around them like demented fireworks.

She rolled over slightly to check on her rescuer's condition when the world once again exploded. Janeway would never know whether the blast came from a secret cache of weapons or the phasers of the injured people trapped inside, but the blast was so strong that the walls of the pub instantly disintegrated into millions of shards of deadly projectiles that mowed down everyone standing at street level.

Instinctively, she threw her body over her rescuer's prone body to protect him from danger as the debris rained down upon them. She was so panicked and cold that she barely noticed the pain in her left shoulder as a splinter pierced completely through her body, collapsing a lung and pushing her commbadge through the heavy material of her parka. Her body trembled and she felt an odd ache in her throat as she tried to understand what had happened. The world seemed to shift slightly out of focus as she tried desperately to catch her breath.

The man beneath her moved with a groan, lifting her as he rolled over. He took in the shattered walls of the pub as he sat up, and then noticed her limp body in the ditch beside him. The surrounding area was bedlam as the injured cried for help, smaller explosions lit up the sky, and survivors ran back and forth like demented children.

"Oh, Kathryn," he cried as he looked down at her, the bloodied point of the wood shard sticking through her parka. "Oh my god."

"Are you all right?" she managed to murmur before the world went dark.

Sometime later, much later, she thought that she must be dreaming about Chakotay. She dreamt they were on an away mission in a cold, damp place. She could hear him arguing with another person about what they should do next, but everything seemed unreal, as if she were floating above the room or listening through a terrible subspace connection.

"The situation on Draxxon is rapidly destabilizing," the other man argued. "It's every man for himself out there. If we don't go now, I can't guarantee that we'll get away at all."

"I'm not leaving until she's back on her ship," Chakotay replied, his voice controlled, but firm. "And you aren't leaving without me."

"You don't even know if she'll make it, Tyee," the man replied. "She's lost a lot of blood."

There were sounds of a scuffle and a muted grunt from the other man. "If you worked on the commbadge instead of whining about your sorry skin, we could be on our way by now," Chakotay growled, his voice cold with fury. "We aren't leaving until we contact her ship. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Tyee," the man replied, resigned to his fate. "Give me ten minutes."

Janeway frowned. Tyee? Who was Tyee? And her ship? Wasn't it their ship? Wasn't it Voyager? She shivered as a warm hand caressed her face.

"You're freezing," Chakotay said, his voice completely changed, soft, gentle, soothing. She heard him take out his phaser and heat the rocks piled near her. "Keep fighting, Kathryn. We'll get you to real medical help soon."

She shivered again, uncontrollably, and Chakotay responded by crawling onto the pad and wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his warmth, crying out as a hot knife seemed to tear through her shoulder. "So cold," she muttered.

She felt him pull back slightly and run his hands over her aching chest and back. "The field bandage is holding. The bleeding has stopped and the lung is working again. Just hold on a few minutes longer, Kathryn. Hold on to me."

She felt him pull her toward his body, and she molded herself to his warmth, taking in the familiar smell of him, relaxing in the safety of his protection. For the first time in months, she felt at peace, in spite of the pain, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep here, content to rest in his arms and tell the rest of the galaxy to go away and leave them alone.

He sang to her softly, a lullaby in his native language that she'd heard him sing to Naomi on Voyager, its words indistinct, but familiar, comforting, restful. She wrapped her consciousness around his voice. Everything was going to be fine, she thought. Chakotay will make sure of it; she could trust him to follow through.

With a small sigh, aware only of his voice and warmth, she drifted into a peaceful, blissful sleep.

Much later, Janeway's eyes opened. Time had passed, but she was only aware of that because she was now on the Delta Flyer, lying on the tiny biobed with Voyager's EMH leaning over her.

"Admiral?" he said, his gentle eyes shining with relief. "Do you know where you are?"

She looked past him and squinted into the lights in the ceiling, trying to focus on the indistinct figure behind him. "Chakotay?"

"It's Harry," the person said, stepping to the other side of the biobed. He looked up at the EMH. "She must be dreaming she's on Voyager."

"No," she insisted, struggling to sit up. "It was Chakotay. I heard his voice."

The doctor gently held her down. "The shoulder is still healing, Admiral, and you'll be weak for awhile yet from the loss of blood."

"The explosion?" she blinked her eyes, remembering. "The pub?"

"You were separated from the rest of us," Harry explained, "but someone carried you to an empty building and then contacted us about your location."

"Not 'someone'--Chakotay," she insisted. "He helped me out of the building and then carried me to a cave." She shook her head. "Or maybe a building. A cold damp place. He treated my wound while the other man repaired my commbadge."

"Your commbadge was lost at the scene," Harry assured her. "When Tom saw the second big explosion in the pub through the ship's sensors, he beamed the away team up, but he only got your commbadge. We assume it came off during the confusion."

"No, they were fixing it," she disagreed, becoming agitated as she tried to remember what she'd heard. "The other man called him by a different name," she struggled to remember what it had been, "but the name doesn't matter. It was Chakotay."

"Yes, of course, it was," the EMH replied, giving Harry a stern look and a wink. He picked up a hypospray. "Let me give you something to help you relax."

"No! We have to scan for him." She grabbed Harry's hand and her voice left no room for discussion. "He was there, Harry. He helped me, and I have to talk to him."

Harry looked up at the doctor, unsure of what he should believe. "The wound was given a proper Starfleet field dressing."

"Basic first aid. She was injured and had lost a lot of blood, Mr. Kim," the doctor replied as he made some adjustments to the dose. "She doesn't remember clearly."

Furious, Janeway caught the EMH's wrist and pulled him toward her. "Don't patronize me, doctor, or I'll have your damned program decompiled. Chakotay was there. It was real, not a dream." She looked at Harry, making sure he understood that her next words were a direct order. "Scan Draxxon for Chakotay's life signs."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said as he hurried to the command level. "On my way."

The room was silent as Janeway and the doctor stared at each other. At long last, she relaxed, lying back on the bed with a tired groan. She let go of his arm and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I don't need a sedative," she assured him, taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. "It's just . . . I know it was Chakotay, doctor. I wasn't dreaming, and it wasn't a delusion."

"Yes, ma'am," the doctor replied. "I didn't mean to doubt you. Or him."

She turned her head away, ashamed of the tears that burned her eyes. "I owe all of you a debt of gratitude for helping me investigate what really happened on Belle Colony all those years ago," she said. "I forget that you put up with this obsession of mine voluntarily."

"We're here because we love Chakotay, too," the doctor replied. "Now get some sleep."

Janeway didn't really appreciate the implications of the doctor's remark until several days had passed. She had recovered from her injuries, and their scans of Draxxon had failed to turn up a single human life sign. The Flyer was on its way back to Deep Space Three where the five members of Voyager's senior staff would return to their usual duties in Starfleet. In the meantime, Janeway pondered the events of the Draxxon mission, focusing today on the doctor's final perplexing comment.

"He said, 'We love Chakotay, too,'" Janeway said, repeating the doctor's words into her personal log. "His assumption was that I'm pursuing the Belle Colony mystery because I 'love' Chakotay, but I wonder how he meant that. Did he mean that I love him as a friend? Or as a lover?"

She paused, remembering how it had felt to rest in Chakotay's arms, how her feelings of peace and contentment had been so overpowering that she'd wanted to stay right there for the rest of her life. She recalled the soothing rumble of his voice as he sang to her, the treasured aroma of his cologne, and the warm welcome of his body.

"Even though I haven't spoken to him and haven't seen his face in nearly a year and a half, Chakotay is a presence in my life as real as any other person I've ever known. Or loved."

She spied among her belongings the etched stone Chakotay had given her when he'd come to tell her goodbye. She picked it up, running her fingers over the words as tears welled in her eyes. "I will always remember you, Chakotay. I don't know how to forget you."

to be continued


	5. Siberia

Summary: Kathryn Janeway investigates the Belle Colony mystery only to find herself in hot water. This story takes place about 21 months after Voyager's return (three months after Draxxon).

Siberia (a Belle Colony A/U story)

By mizvoy

"That should be everything." Admiral Kathryn Janeway placed the last of her personal items in a Starfleet shoulder bag, sealed it, and glanced around the echoing, empty office. She was weary and a headache was threatening to explode behind her left eye. She'd spent forty-eight hours telling her family goodbye only to rush back to San Francisco and pack her entire office in a single day. Her work had been fueled by anger and self-righteous resentment for the quick punitive reassignment she'd been given to a job half a quadrant away from headquarters. "So much for my illustrious career."

"I believe that this assignment will prove to be a minor setback, Admiral." Tuvok stood quietly in front of the desk, waves of much-needed serenity flowing from him. "You'll have this back someday, if you want it."

"I've wanted this all my life, Tuvok." She gestured at the room, her voice wistful. "A corner office in Federation Hall. Real mahogany desk and paneling. Unimpeded view of San Francisco Bay."

"That getting the office was important to you, I have no doubt." Tuvok's eyebrow moved upward. "However, keeping the office has obviously been less important. In spite of Admiral Hayes's warnings to stop at once, you persisted with your inquiries into Belle Colony until he was forced to take action."

She smirked. "You know how I can be. Warning me to stay out of something usually makes me that much more determined to stay in it."

"A very human response, but not one that's conducive to keeping a corner office in Federation Hall."

"Obviously not." She laughed and put the bag over her shoulder with a sigh of resignation. "Walk with me to the transporter station?"

"It would be my pleasure." He fell in step beside her as they made their way out of the building.

The September evening was glorious. Unsure of when she'd be on Earth again, Janeway drank in the stunning honey gold sunshine, the brilliant blue sky, the pink and orange clouds, and the gentle breeze that lifted her hair. Janeway was relieved to find the grounds deserted as they walked slowly through the gardens. She wasn't anxious to draw attention to her reassignment with the usual farewell banquet, preferring to leave quietly and avoid bringing the spotlight onto her recent defiant behavior. As her mother had reminded her earlier in the day, there are times when it's better to fold your tents and quietly slip away.

"Admiral," Tuvok said after several minutes of comfortable silence, "you shouldn't be disheartened about this reassignment. Your transfer, while sudden, isn't a true demotion. Serving as military attaché for the ambassador along the volatile boundary with the Utav Union is perfectly suited to your Delta Quadrant experience and will have long-range impact in our dealings with the entire region."

She smiled at him in gratitude. So often, perhaps because of their many years of friendship, he was able to sense exactly the issue that troubled her and mollify her misgivings. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Tuvok, but leaving the Romulan desk at headquarters to take a job on the outermost Federation border feels more like banishment to me."

"Think of it as an opportunity to excel. Ambassador Tydtk needs a firm hand and a level-headed advisor if he hopes to mediate a peaceful conclusion to the Union/Toroyan war."

"He's a loose cannon, all right." She frowned as she remembered the caustic comments her predecessor's logs—the ambassador was resistant to conflicting opinions, unwilling to consider second or third options, driven by an agenda of his own. "I'm afraid his obvious preference for Unionists makes the Toroyans perceive us as another enemy instead of an unbiased mediator."

"A valid concern and one I'm sure you'll address as soon a possible."

She stopped and stared at him, dreading the idea of having to submit to an irrational ambassador's control when she was so used to being in charge. After so many years on her own, she found it irksome to be subordinate to someone she didn't respect and couldn't trust. "I have a bad feeling about this assignment, Tuvok."

He stopped several yards ahead of her on the sidewalk and returned her stare. "Like you, I'm apprehensive about the ambassador's attitude. But, you're an astute and incisive diplomat with a great deal of experience at working in isolation."

"Isolation isn't what I'm worried about, Tuvok. I'd much rather be on my own than struggling to keep my boss from setting the autodestruct program."

"You'll find that Lieutenant Commander Brooks will be an able assistant to you. She's a fine security officer whom I recommended after considerable thought."

"And I appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I wish I could have you with me instead. Or Chakotay." For a moment, she wanted to throw her arms around him and bemoan her fate, but she knew that such an emotional outburst would make the Vulcan even more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead she pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, hoping to shield her friend from the tears that filled her eyes. "You know that they refused to let me name anyone from Voyager to my personal staff."

Tuvok almost smiled. "Clearly, separating the crew is another objective that this 'banishment' is supposed to accomplish."

"I wonder if people appreciate just how close we are after seven years together."

"It seems that they take too lightly the bond we share."

Her eyes focused on a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. "I'm relieved that my recent activities haven't damaged anyone else's reputation. At least, not yet."

"We've been able to hide behind the pretense of following your orders. As your long-term subordinates, we're obviously accustomed to yielding to the directives of a peculiar and inflexible former commander."

"Is that so?" She closed the distance between them, stopping to look up at him with a crooked grin on her face. "What a burden I've been to you all."

"Indeed. However, by blaming you for our actions, we are able to remain at your disposal."

She was tired, and his unconditional friendship threatened to overpower her emotional control. "I'm truly humbled by your loyalty to me and to Chakotay, Tuvok. Your devotion and that of the crew is precious to me."

"From nearly the first days of our time in the Delta Quadrant, our allegiance was personal in nature."

She brushed a tear from her eye. "Do you believe me when I say that he's alive?"

"I believe that you believe he's alive."

She laughed and shook her head in dismay. "A fine distinction. And your 'belief in my belief' is reason enough to risk of being seen with me?" She laughed again at his unchanged expression. "You can trust me on this one, Tuvok. He's alive."

"I've always trusted you, Admiral. I also believe that if he's alive, you'll find him."

"Damn straight." She started walking again, her quick pace revealing her impatience, and then she turned and put her fists on her hips. "I'm going to find him, and then I'm going to kill him."

The tiny smile that crossed Tuvok's face made Janeway laugh out loud. She waited for him to catch up with her and pulled her arm through his, an act of familiarity unusual with Vulcans and indicative of their long friendship. "You will keep those pointed ears to the ground, won't you?"

"We'll all remain vigilant, Admiral. Surely you know that."

"Don't do anything to draw attention to your efforts. Passive scans only."

He raised an eyebrow. "Advice we gave you after we left Draxxon, as I recall."

"I know. Advice I ignored." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Draxxon gave me a renewed sense of urgency, that's all."

"Indeed."

Before Janeway would agree to leave Draxxon, she'd demanded that they remain in orbit for a few days and run extensive scans for human DNA. In the meantime, members of the crew visited the surface to ask about a man with a tattoo, the Caritas, or any other shred of information that would confirm that her encounter with her former first officer was more than an injury-induced hallucination.

But, their search for information had been futile. Even Tom Paris, who had long been acknowledged as the greatest gossip collector on Voyager, had come back empty handed. Janeway hadn't really been surprised; the Caritas wouldn't be well liked by the mercenaries, since they gave away the critical supplies that could bring exorbitant profits—medicine, food, equipment. No one admitted to having heard of the Caritas. No one had any information about a bunch of "do-gooders." No one had seen a human with a tattoo on his face. They'd hit a dead end.

Tuvok had finally prevailed upon her to return to Federation space, but no one couldn't stop her from immediately following up on the single piece of new information they'd learned about Belle Colony—the strange emissions that the Cardassians had detected. It was that line of inquiry that had been the last straw for the admiralty and brought about her reassignment.

Janeway sighed. "Who would have imagined that a few innocent queries about emissions would bring about my immediate transfer to the boondocks?"

"I believe the transfer was the end result of several 'innocent' queries, Admiral." Tuvok gave her an appraising look, and Janeway held her breath, waiting for him to harass her again about the information she refused to share with him. Instead, he sighed and lowered his voice. "Obviously the emissions are not only a sore point for someone in a position of authority, they're also an issue worthy of further study."

"Not by you." She glared at him. "I'll figure it out on my own."

Janeway had started her investigation by reading every shred of information on Belle Colony that she could find in the public record. She'd been amazed that the installation had escaped official notice for most of its existence and had never once been mentioned in the popular press prior to its destruction. Food and materiel had been delivered to the planet, but there was an almost total absence of transport ships or communication traffic, as if the miners had no one in the Federation who might be concerned about their well-being. The minerals taken from the mining activities had been loaded onto freighters, but, from what she could tell, had never been unloaded anywhere, as if they had evaporated en route--or never really existed.

These innocent, preliminary searches were ignored by the admiralty, a fact that emboldened her to extend her research into less accessible areas. Her next step was to pry into classified and confidential records about the Colony and seek out individuals who might have first-hand knowledge of what had really transpired there. She used Tuvok's contacts in security and her own command codes to trace any leads she could find, but soon found herself seated in Admiral Hayes' office for the first of several informal "talks" that were liberally laced with friendly warnings. She nodded and smiled, of course, but she wasn't about to be dissuaded.

Her visit to Belle Colony's ruins was a breech of protocol that precipitated the first of a series of ominous run-ins with the admiralty. The planet was off limits to all visitors, and yet Janeway had rounded up several members of Voyager's senior staff and had traveled to the ruins. They had remained in orbit for several days and had spent long hours on the surface looking for clues, but had found nothing remarkable. The destruction had been amazingly complete, and the caustic atmosphere had burned away any trace of biomatter that might have remained.

When she returned, Hayes called her to his office, stood her at attention in front of his desk, and lectured her for twenty minutes about the fact that she was no longer in the Delta Quadrant, that she had to learn to follow orders, and that she must respect the regulations that placed a location like Belle Colony on restricted access. She nodded and smiled again, even as her plan to meet the Caritas on Draxxon was taking form in her head.

Their ship had barely left orbit around Draxxon when Janeway had received a secure subspace message from Admiral Hayes. She'd taken the comm in the privacy of her quarters, but, even so, he'd been so angry with her boldness that his angry voice had echoed through every deck of the ship. Nonetheless, Janeway was undaunted by the blistering reprimand or her friends' good advice to back off. She had barely finished her next cup of coffee before she had told Seven of Nine to access any and all sensor scans of Belle Colony's sector--and especially any that were done of the Colony itself.

When they discovered that there were no such scans available, Janeway felt an even bigger sense of urgency, for this was a red flag. Why wouldn't there be records of the mining colony? What was being hidden from view? After a few weeks of careful contemplation, Janeway finally realized that the only scans available might be the long-range scans taken by Cardassian vessels captured during the Dominion War. And so, she had used her command codes to break into the highly-classified Cardassian data bases, compiling a dozen or so scans before she realized that she all she needed. Even a cursory review revealed the secret, and she hadn't needed an engineer to explain what she was seeing.

Belle Colony wasn't a mining community. It was a laboratory dedicated to the research of illegal phased cloak devices.

Janeway had barely had time to finish reviewing the Cardassian scans before she'd been summoned to Admiral Hayes's office. He had been furious about her access of classified records, had put a written reprimand in her file for her "continued pattern of insubordination," and had informed her of an immediate reassigned her to duty to the farthest regions of Federation space where she would serve as Ambassador Tydtk's military attaché. Hayes had made it clear that leaking anything she suspected about Belle Colony would end her Starfleet career and possibly result in her arrest for treason.

And so, here she was--on her way to the ship that would send her into exile. She'd been properly chastised, but her curiosity had been fanned to white hot temperatures. She consoled herself by thinking that her punishment could have been much worse, that she was still in a position to continue her investigation when the opportunity presented itself, but she was anxious to find out more as soon as possible.

They arrived at the transport station where Tuvok, stoic as ever, coolly regarded her. "I know that I speak for everyone from Voyager when I say that you'll be missed."

"I hope I won't be gone all that long." She smiled. "And I would be fighting this transfer if the Caritas didn't operate near Union territory."

"You think you might run into someone you know."

"I hope so."

"As do I." He led her into the building, dismissed the transport operator, and entered the codes needed to beam her to McKinley station. She took her place on the transporter pad and patiently waited for him to program the device, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. At last, he looked up at her, his left hand hovering over the console.

"Peace and long life, Admiral," he intoned, holding his right hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute.

She returned the salute, struggling to repress a sob. "Live long and prosper, Tuvok."

He activated the transport, but then jerked back as blue bolts of energy danced across the controls and threatened to burn his hands. Janeway cried out in distress as the mechanism malfunctioned and twisted in pain before she finally disappeared in a gray spiral of smoke and flame. In the sudden silence, Tuvok heard her commbadge roll off of the transporter pad and onto the floor.

* * *

The frigid subzero temperature hovered just outside the temporary shelter like a monster. Inside the wind-buffeted walls, a pile of superheated rocks provided a wavering envelope of warmth and threw a minimal red glow on the shelter's two occupants. Ramon Cabrera studied the bundled unconscious figure lying on the other side of the rocks and marveled at the ferocity of the late winter, sub arctic weather.

Cabrera hadn't visited Earth in over six years, and while the environment was as hostile as space itself, he relished breathing the atmosphere of his home world for the few hours he could risk staying there. Shivering with cold, he used his phaser to reheat the rocks and noticed two eyes staring at him in confusion. He activated a small lantern that doubled the ambient light and grinned at the scowl on his prisoner's face.

"So, Admiral Janeway," he said, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders, "now you see how easily you can be taken against your will."

Janeway struggled against the sleeping bag that cocooned her before she gave up and settled into the warmth, too exhausted and disoriented to fight. She had no idea where she was or how long she'd been unconscious. All she could remember was a painful transport that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The man watching her was barely visible in the minimal light. In spite of the fact that he'd kidnapped her, Janeway sensed little to fear in his glittering black eyes. She said, "Who are you? Are you part of Section 31?"

"No, Admiral, I'm Ramon Cabrera, not that my name would mean anything to you." He knelt down close beside her so she could see the deep laugh lines around his eyes and gave her a reassuring smile, his teeth a brilliant white against his tanned skin. "I could be from Section 31, though. If I could snatch you from the Commander Tuvok's protective grasp, they certainly could."

Janeway struggled again, only to close her eyes when vertigo threatened to spin her into unconsciousness. "What do you want from me?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He opened her sleeping bag and reached for the bindings that kept her hands tethered to her side. "I'll release you if you promise to listen without causing trouble. You wouldn't get far out there any way."

She shrugged. "What choice do I have?" Once her hands were free, she sat up and pulled the sleeping bag around her shoulders. The wind hit the shelter so hard that expected to be airborne at any moment and tumbling like a snowball down a hill. "Where are we, anyway?"

"It's an old deserted Antarctic base, nice and remote. It's also very close to the southern magnetic pole, which will confuse the scans of the Starfleet officers who are, no doubt, frantically searching for their missing admiral." He busied himself with his supplies, pulling out a cylindrical container and handing it to her. "This is hot, so be careful."

She reached for the mug, only to realize that her hands were in mittens and that she was wearing a heavy parka. She gazed down at herself in amazement. "How . . . ?"

"I didn't want you to freeze to death, Admiral. There's important work to accomplish out there, and you are the only person who can do it."

"Broth." She sipped the hot liquid with gratitude. "'Out there'? You're aware of my transfer?"

"I have friends in Starfleet. Actually, Admiral, we have a lot in common."

"Really?" She studied him, reminding herself that in spite of her intuitive trust of him, he'd managed to divert a secure transport beam directed between the heart of Starfleet Command and McKinley station, and that made him a dangerous man.

"More than you'd imagine." Cabrera settled back into his own blankets. "As soon as your first officer disappeared, I knew we were destined to meet. It was just a matter of time."

Her eyes widened. "This is about Belle Colony."

"Of course. When I heard of your impending transfer to Siberia, I knew I had to hurry to talk to you before it was too late." He studied her, a look of admiration in his eyes. "You're getting close to the truth, much closer than anyone ever has before. You've scared them."

"Siberia? Isn't that in Asia?"

"I was speaking metaphorically. At one time in Earth's history, Siberia was where irate tyrants exiled political troublemakers in order to keep them from starting a rebellion." He frowned. "You mentioned Section 31, so we'll leave it at that. They've been hoping you'd eventually give up on this fixation you have with clearing your first officer. They underestimated your connection to him."

In spite of her captivity, Janeway's anger flared. "Listen . . . Cabrera, right? Chakotay and I worked together closely for seven years in the worst possible situations. My loyalty to him . . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Cabrera interrupted her with an exaggerated wink. "You don't have to explain your loyalty to me, Admiral."

She bit her tongue. To argue further that their relationship was purely professional would be to protest too much and convince him otherwise. "He didn't deserve the treatment he received."

"I agree, and I admire you for defending him." Cabrera waited for her to relax. After a few moments, he continued, "When your search for facts finally led to the Cardassian scans, believe me, you set off alarms that made several powerful admirals very uncomfortable."

"What are you talking about?" She'd been very cautious when she'd accessed the Cardassian scans. In fact, Hayes had told her that her discretion had kept her from being forcibly retired from active duty. Nor had she shared her outrageous conclusion with Tuvok, because she finally understood that Belle Colony was a dangerous, traitorous secret and that anyone who knew the truth about it had dangerous enemies.

"You were so patient, waiting until after the Voyager debriefings and your promotion to begin your investigation. You lulled them into complacency. When they announced that Chakotay was dead, they figured you'd drop your quest to exonerate him because it was a hopeless gesture. But then . . . you went to Draxxon, and something happened there that made you impatient." She stared at him with her mouth open. "I have a good idea just who you saw there. Or who you think you saw."

"How do you know all this?"

"Like you, Admiral, I'm obsessed with Belle Colony. I just don't have the luxury of looking for information with your careless abandon."

She bristled. "Careless abandon?"

"What else can you call it? You've acted as if what happened is a matter of public record, when it's really a matter of deadly secrecy."

"Why are you obsessed with Belle Colony? Did you live there at one time? Did you know someone who died there?"

"Not exactly." He put the lid back on his empty mug and tossed it into his bag before looking at her with a heartbreaking expression. "I'm sure you've heard of the Coquille."

She caught her breath. "The Coquille? The first ship to arrive after the explosion, right?"

He nodded. "You wanted to talk to someone from that ship."

"Oh, I did. Its captain was Mary Pat Mulroney, a classmate of mine at the academy, so I wanted very much to ask her about it. But the Coquille was one of the first ships lost in the days leading up to the Dominion War. Lost, with all hands."

"Except one." He glanced away, his eyes tortured. "Me."

"You? You were assigned to the Coquille?"

"I was the operations officer, Admiral."

"But . . . the ship was destroyed with no survivors."

"That's what the official record says. I was rescued and spent most of the war in a Bajoran refugee camp."

Janeway was surprised at his desertion of duty. "You didn't try to return to Starfleet?"

"At that point, Admiral, I felt I was in as much danger from Starfleet as I was from the Cardassians." He smiled at her look of disbelief. "Maybe you'll understand better after I tell you the whole story."

Janeway drained her mug and pulled the sleeping bag around her shoulders, snuggling into its warmth. She had a feeling that she was going to be very interested in what Cabrera had to say. "I apparently have plenty of time to listen."

Later, when she thought back to Cabrera's story, Janeway remembered feeling a gradual warming of her temper and her body, even though the temperature remained as frigid as ever in the tiny shelter. She'd watched the emotions play across Cabrera's handsome features and had seen the pain and anger that filled his eyes; he'd reminded her of Chakotay as he'd been when they'd first met in the Delta Quadrant—angry and barely restrained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

"We patrolled the Badlands region of the Cardassian border for a year before the Belle Colony explosion," he began. "From the first, the Colony was treated differently than any other Federation installation I've ever seen. We were prohibited from scanning the Colony if we were closer than 25 light years, and even then the data collected was not to be studied or archived, but automatically deleted from the computer. It was the only facility in our patrol area that we didn't visit personally, and, in fact, were prohibited from approaching on a direct vector. We asked the captain why we were getting such strange orders, but she had no explanation other than the fact that they were supposedly testing some top-secret atmospheric mining innovations."

When Janeway snorted at that remark, Cabrera put a finger to his lips. "Never say what you know out loud, Admiral. You never know who's listening."

She stilled, hearing the howling gale outside and imagining how far they must be from civilization. "Not really?"

"They're everywhere, Admiral, on every ship, every installation, every outpost. Never underestimate their reach or their determination."

Janeway nodded. "And you're hiding from them?"

"They think I'm dead." He ducked his head in shame. "I should be dead."

"Don't say that. No one on Coquille would wish that on you."

"I know they wouldn't, Admiral. It's just hard to be the only survivor."

She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Tell me more."

He took a deep breath. "As ops officer, I controlled the sensors, and I managed to glance at a few scans of Belle Colony before the computer deleted them. I didn't have to look at many to figure out what was really going on there. And I didn't have to imagine how explosive such research would be if it was ever made public." He paused, shaking his head at the memory. "Of course, the captain found out about my snooping around. She called me into her ready room and chewed me out, told me to respect my orders and stop endangering the ship. That was when I realized that she, too, suspected what was really going on.

"I didn't realize what she meant by 'endangering the ship.' How could knowing about Belle Colony put Coquille in danger?" He laughed in self-derision. "I was so naïve."

"You weren't naïve, Cabrera. You simply trusted Starfleet to do the right thing, as any Starfleet officer would."

"That's the definition of naïve in my book, Admiral. I decided that if the captain was aware of the situation, all I needed to do was mind my own business and leave the big problems to her. So, we went on with life as usual until a few days before the Belle Colony explosion happened. We received new orders. We were told that a threat had been directed toward an unnamed Federation outpost in our patrol area. We were sent to a specific sector and were ordered to intercept and destroy any Maquis ships that entered our sensor range."

"You were ordered to destroy the ships? Not stop them or retain them?" Janeway didn't want to believe her ears. She'd studied the orders sent to the Coquille prior to the explosion, and she'd seen nothing like that in the records.

"I saw the orders myself, Admiral."

"I don't believe it."

"Do you really think orders like that would be in the permanent record?"

She blinked in surprise. The implication that official records had been altered was another step toward the realm of distrust. "I don't guess they would."

"The sector we were to watch was directly between Belle Colony and the suspected location of a Maquis overhaul base near the Badlands. A Maquis vessel would have to pass through our sector to get back to safety."

"Starfleet must have been expecting the Maquis raid in advance." Janeway remembered what Chakotay had told her about a Starfleet contact who had given him security codes that facilitated their raid of Belle Colony's warehouses. "It was a set-up."

"I think so. Starfleet knew the approximate time the Maquis raid was supposed to occur, and they put Coquille in a position to pick up the Maquis ship as it was fleeing the area. We were supposed to jump to the conclusion that the Maquis caused the explosion and destroy the ship in retaliation."

"But, your captain didn't jump to the expected conclusion?"

"No, she didn't. We picked up the Maquis ship at almost the exact moment the Colony exploded, and Captain Mulroney was suddenly faced with a choice: should she render aid to the victims or track down the Maquis?"

Janeway smiled. "I know what I'd do. The first obligation is to help those in danger."

"And that's what Mulroney did. She set course for Belle Colony with the hope that some of the occupants might have survived in the caves beneath the planet's surface."

"But there were no survivors."

"No, there were no survivors. And by the time we realized that, the Maquis ship was long gone." Cabrera fell silent for a few moments before he continued, talking so softly that Janeway had to lean forward and watch his lips to understand his meaning. His eyes were unfocused and troubled as he remembered the events that followed.

"We stayed in orbit awaiting reinforcements, but there wasn't much we could do in the meantime, so we took advantage of the opportunity to look over this mysterious place. I personally ran a series of multi-spectral scans, most with a slant toward what I'd guessed was the Colony's . . . real mission. But, I wasn't the only one. I know for a fact that the engineer studied the source of the blast and the type of explosion. Medical scanned for biomatter. I don't know what kept us from going to the surface and picking up samples of the dome material. Maybe we were lazy." His eyes focused on Janeway's for the briefest moment.

"None of that data is in Starfleet's records," Janeway commented. "That's exactly what I've been looking for, but there's nothing there."

"No, I imagine not." He rubbed his face with his hands. "A single Starfleet vessel joined us about eight hours after the explosion--not exactly the number of ships we expected we expected to come rushing to the rescue, but then we reasoned since there were no survivors, there was less of a need for urgency.

"As soon as the ship arrived, the captain was taken into custody and beamed to the other ship for questioning. The rumor circulated that she was severely reprimanded for failing to follow her orders and destroy the Maquis ship. We didn't see her for three days, and while she was gone the crew was grilled repeatedly about what we knew about the colony. The computer was literally scoured for illegal information. I know I was interviewed three different times by six different people.

"All the scans we'd done on Belle Colony were erased from the computer and the memory was totally sanitized. They told us that our previous orders to avoid scanning the Colony hadn't been rescinded and that our failure to follow those orders had put the Federation itself at grave risk."

"What a strange thing to say."

"Yeah. But, they had another, more serious problem on their hands. They could erase any incriminating information remained on the computer, but they couldn't do anything about what the crew had seen during our stay in orbit. We could tell people what we saw, and even if we couldn't prove anything, we could make people look into what went on out there."

Janeway shook her head as she began to realize what she was hearing. "Are you implying that they wanted to get rid of the crew?"

"You tell me. Captain Mulroney resumed command of the ship. Our upcoming shore leave was cancelled, and the crew members who were supposed to rotate off the Coquille for training had their orders withdrawn. Instead, we were assigned the task of finding the Maquis maintenance base. Because our work was top secret, we weren't allowed to contact our families. Starfleet informed them that we were on a special assignment of unknown duration. In fact, the only communication we had from that time on was with the ship that had joined us at Belle Colony."

"Do you think the ship was from Section 31?"

"I have no way of knowing for sure, but it would make sense if it was. We spent a futile six weeks looking for the base. The Maquis had a great time confusing us any way they could. Their little ships ran rings around Coquille, which was a slower and less maneuverable ship."

"So you were kept in deep space as punishment?"

"It was more than that, Admiral. Coquille was out of her element chasing the small, agile Maquis ships. And we were in constant danger from the growing hostility between them and the Cardassians. The only way we could discover the Maquis base's location was to follow ships into the Badlands, even though taking the Coquille there was practically suicide."

"Why would they deliberately put you in danger?"

"Isn't it obvious? Someone was afraid that we'd tell what we knew about the Colony, and I think they were trying to decide how to handle it, how to keep us from talking. In the meantime, if the ship was lost while dealing with dangerous terrorists . . . ."

"I don't believe it," Janeway interrupted. "I don't believe that Starfleet intended for your ship to be destroyed."

"Not Starfleet, Admiral. Section 31. And anyway, whether they intended it or not, that's what happened. I'm betting there's no account of Coquille's last mission."

"Not that I could access."

"We were following a Maquis vessel that ran and hid in the Badlands, but this vessel had the exact ion signature as the one that had raced away from Belle Colony. Mulroney was tired and frustrated by our weeks of exile, desperate to do something to get out of the doghouse, and I think she hoped that catching this particular ship would earn us a reprieve. She ordered Coquille to follow the Maquis into a relatively calm part of the storms.

"Unfortunately, our luck had run out. Coquille was caught in some sort of vortex that pulled it into a vicious storm wave. Our antimatter containment failed at once, and the warp core overloaded so fast that the captain didn't even have time to shout 'abandon ship' before the core breeched."

Janeway was silent for a long time. "How did you manage to survive?"

"I was working on a comm problem on the bridge that was near an escape pod, and I had crawled into the pod to see if its systems were also affected. The next thing I knew, the ship was shaking apart. I lost consciousness for a few seconds, and the pod's door sealed, and I was ejected into space."

"So, Starfleet thinks you went down with the ship."

"Yeah, and I think that's why I'm still around. During my stay at the refugee camp, I was able to see how the whole Belle Colony matter was being deliberately downplayed and misrepresented in the press. I knew that my reappearance would only make things worse."

"You've taken a chance to see me, then."

"I had to, Admiral. You're like I was back then. You simply don't understand the peril your actions have put you in. You've set off their alarms, and now they're sending you to an explosive war zone in Union/Toroyan space, just as they sent Coquille into danger after we found out the truth."

Janeway laughed. "You think Starfleet wants to eliminate me?"

"Section 31 isn't the Starfleet you know, Admiral. At this point, they want you out of their hair and away from the middle of everything until they figure out how much you know and whether you're going to cause trouble."

"I'll be back. I'm not going to give up until I can prove what really happened and Chakotay is home."

"I was afraid you'd say that." He chuckled. "The other thing I need to tell you is this: you can turn this new assignment to your advantage. Occasionally I noticed some strange comings and goings in the Belle Colony sector . . . and I picked up signs of warp cores that had a Union signature." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You think the Unionists might be aware of the Colony's . . . activities?"

"It's just a guess, but you might be able to check it out."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"One last thing. You noticed that the names of the three hundred people killed on Belle Colony were never released."

"Yes, I did notice that."

"Curious, don't you think? "

She frowned. "I don't know what to believe, to be honest."

"I think where you're going might give you the chance to find out the rest of the story, Admiral. Just be careful, because they will do anything necessary to hide the truth. Now, I need to beam you to Australia. Starfleet will soon discover that your transport matter stream was inadvertently 'diverted' there." He gave her am exaggerated wink. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you a few miles outside a settlement. The fact that you had to walk to civilization will explain why you were gone so long."

"Aren't you afraid that Section 31 will discover how you diverted the matter stream?"

Cabrera laughed. "Oh, they already know how I did that, Admiral, because I used their own equipment. But, they aren't about to admit that they have the capability to divert transports so easily. Can you imagine Starfleet's reaction if they knew Section 31 could kidnap anybody they wanted when they beamed into or out of San Francisco?"

Janeway shook her head in amazement. "Won't they wonder who used their equipment to kidnap me?"

He looked up at her and grinned. "They'll wonder, but they won't ask. If they do, tell them the truth. Tell them it was a ghost."

* * *

"A ghost?" Tuvok wasn't pleased with the tired and dusty admiral who delighted in perplexing him.

He'd been frantic to find Janeway when she'd failed to rematerialize on McKinley station only to discover, hours after her disappearance, that she had walked into a remote village in northern Australia with a ridiculous story about her matter stream being diverted. After enduring a two-hour interview with Starfleet security, Tuvok had insisted on accompanying her on the beam-out from San Francisco to the ship awaiting her arrival at McKinley Station.

"I know you told the authorities that you were diverted to Australia, Admiral, and I'm surprised they swallowed your story. And now you expect me to believe that you talked to a ghost?"

"You found me in Australia, didn't you?" Janeway peeled off her jacket and ordered a tall glass of water from the replicator, glancing around in approval at her quarters on the U.S.S. Hyperion. She looked forward to the long relaxing trip to Starbase 450 and the chance to think over all she'd heard in the last several hours. "The man said he was a ghost," she smirked. "Who am I to disagree?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Admiral."

"Tuvok." She took a long drink of the water and collapsed on her sofa. One look at her old friend told her what he thought--that she'd been "talking" to Chakotay on her long walk back to civilization as if he were alive and walking with her. "I haven't taken leave of my senses, I promise. Trust me when I say that you're better off not knowing everything."

"I have learned over the years, Admiral, that where you are concerned, ignorance is never bliss." He perched on the chair across from her. "How can I help you if I'm unaware of your situation?"

"I appreciate your concern, but there's nothing you can do to help me at this point. I'll let you know when and if I need you." She finished her water and put the empty glass on the table. "If that's all, Tuvok, you really should return to San Francisco. I know that the Hyperion has delayed their departure because of my detour, and besides, I need to shower and get some sleep."

Tuvok hesitated. "Your misdirected transport has unsettled me, Admiral. I wonder if I'll see you again."

"I'm sorry you're 'unsettled.'" She gave him a crooked smile in an attempt to reassure him. "You'll see me again, Tuvok, and probably sooner than you imagine possible." He stood up, but made no move for the door, so Janeway stood, as well, casually taking the pips from her collar and holding them in her palm of her hand. "Is there something else on your mind?"

His eyes were determined, and she braced herself for his words. "I cannot tolerate being left out of the loop. I need to know what you know, Admiral. "

"You. Do. Not." Her voice was cool, and she emphasized her unwillingness to talk about it further by drawing a line across her throat as she did whenever she suspected that their communications were compromised. Tuvok looked around the room in surprise, as if it were ridiculous to suspect that someone would spy on an admiral while she was in her quarters on a Starfleet vessel. If this were Voyager, if they were still in the Delta Quadrant, she'd tell him everything without hesitation. But here in the Alpha Quadrant, as Cabrera had warned her, every wall had ears. "This is neither the time nor place for such a discussion, Tuvok."

"If you insist," he replied in resignation.

This wasn't the first time since Voyager had arrived home that Janeway had felt that she was in hostile territory. If Cabrera hesitated to talk openly in a hut on the frozen plains of Antarctica, how much less secure would her quarters be on a Starfleet ship? "Do nothing until you hear from me."

"Very well." Janeway had never seen him so exasperated. "Remember to stay in regular contact."

"You, too. I want you keep me informed about what everyone's doing."

Once Tuvok returned to the Earth's surface, Janeway finally realized how exhausted she was. Nearly eight hours had passed since Cabrera had diverted her transport, and that meant that it was approaching three in the morning, late even by Janeway's standards. Suppressing a yawn, she contacted her aide and informed him that she was retiring for the evening and would be sleeping in the next day. For once she was glad to leave the ship's business to the captain while she soaked in a tub of hot water, sipped a glass of ice cold wine, and then slept for at least ten hours.

It was a relief to get out of her filthy, sweaty uniform and crawl into the warm fragrant water for some much-needed relaxation. Her walk back to civilization had given her plenty of time to reflect on every word Cabrera had spoken, every nuance of meaning she'd picked up from his tone of voice, every gesture he'd made, and every expression that had been on his handsome face. She couldn't detect duplicity or treachery in what she remembered, even though she was anxious to discount the story he'd told her, desperate to find some reason to discredit his claim that a Starfleet organization had put an entire ship of innocent people in danger in an effort to cover up their illegal activities.

She slid down in the tub until her chin touched the water. Truth be told, it was her personal reaction to Cabrera bothered her. He had risked his life to warn her about the danger she was in, and she was grateful for that, but she was also troubled by her instant and automatic trust of him. The reason for that was easy enough to pinpoint. Ramon Cabrera had so resembled Chakotay in his coloring and in the softness of his voice that she'd trusted him without thinking and had let her emotions her while she was in his presence. She would have to be more careful about that sort of behavior in the future. She would have to be tougher, more analytical, or she would be at risk of being betrayed by a familiar-looking face.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the intercom. "Schuler to Janeway."

In the background, Janeway could hear the bustle on the bridge as the ship prepared to leave McKinley station, a familiar sound of organized chaos that brought a smile to her face. What a chore it must be to have an admiral on board who had to be consulted about ship's business. "Go ahead, Captain."

"All personnel, personal effects, and supplies are on board. Our visitors have departed. McKinley personnel have returned to their duty stations. The ship has been cleared for immediate departure. What is your pleasure, Admiral?"

"By all means, Captain, let's get underway." Janeway sighed with relief. Her meeting with Cabrera had cost them several precious hours, and the ambassador would not be pleased if his new military attaché arrived late for her first day of work. "Best speed possible."

Janeway closed her eyes and enjoyed the nearly-imperceptible sensations of a ship leaving space dock, the slight jar when released from the station's docking clamps, the switch from umbilical to ship's power, the shiver of the impulse engine, and then the steady heartbeat of the warp core coming online. She noticed a gentle rocking motion in the bath water and a hum in the power relays hidden in the walls that made her feel right at home. It was good to be back in space again.

The warm caress of the water was soothing after the frigid cold of Antarctica and the arduous hike in the tropical heat of Australia, and Janeway was growing drowsy. Afraid she might fall asleep and drown in the bath water, she crawled out of the tub, finished her bedtime routine, and slipped into bed.

In spite of her exhaustion, sleep wouldn't come. She lay there watching the stars stream by as she had for years on Voyager, turning the issues that worried her over and over in her mind. She needed to simplify what she knew and then look at their implications. Until she'd settled this in her mind, sleep wouldn't come.

First, Belle Colony had been an illegal research facility dedicated to the development of phased cloaks in direct violation of the Treaty of Algeron. The research must have gone on for all five years of the Colony's existence, but how successful their research had been was a complete unknown, and she could think of no way to find out. Had they perfected the cloak? Had they developed personal cloaks as well as ones large enough to hide a ship? Or a base? Suddenly uneasy, she gazed around her quarters and then outside of the ship. There could be a person standing beside her bed if a phased cloak had been perfected. There could there be a ship traveling beside the Hyperion, shadowing their every move. She shivered at the thought.

Second, the Maquis had been lured to Belle Colony for the specific purpose of blaming them for its subsequent destruction. How could the Maquis resist the chance to take supplies that were so desperately needed? Chakotay had sworn to her that the Maquis had not intentionally damaged the installation, and Tom Riker had found no evidence that Seska's Cardassian superiors had ordered her to destroy it. There could only be one other explanation: Starfleet, or more accurately, Section 31 had destroyed the Colony themselves, either because the research was complete or because it was in danger of being discovered. Why else would Coquille have been pre-positioned to intercept the fleeing Maquis ship?

Third, whoever was responsible for this conspiracy was more than willing to eliminate anyone who was in a position to expose them. Coquille had been put in harm's way because they had discovered the cloaking research while in orbit over Belle Colony. The Dominion War had neatly taken care of Padrillo when he and the rest of the Maquis had been massacred on the Tevlik moon. Cabrera was, as he so colorfully put it, a "ghost" survivor from Coquille, was safe only so long as he was presumed dead.

And then, there was Chakotay. While Voyager had been on the far side of the galaxy, Chakotay had not been a threat, but once they returned, once he could be charged and tried for his alleged crime, he was a liability that had to be eliminated. If he were arrested and brought to trial, the secret of Belle Colony would become public knowledge and heads would roll. So, someone from Section 31 had contacted him on Voyager, convinced him that he should escape, and then assisted him in his flight from prosecution--right into the arms of slavers whose captives had an average life-span of six months.

Finally, because of her campaign to exonerate her best friend, she had also become a liability. When she thought of her peril, she considered reaching for her tricorder, configuring it to find phased cloaks, and then wandering through her quarters looking for spies, but she couldn't succumb to paranoia. Not yet, anyway.

She was going to a new job, working for a difficult boss, learning a new culture, and trying to negotiate a cease fire without anyone she could trust at her side. Did the Union vessels seen near Belle Colony have something to do with its destruction? Did the Union have a group like Section 31 that would be a threat to her? Did Ambassador Tydtk's "secret agenda" have something to do with the phased cloak research she'd discovered?

Janeway wasn't the type to resort to tears, and yet she found herself crying at the unfairness of it all, at the frustration and resentment she felt. Cabrera had followed orders and routine protocols only to see his ship and crew tossed aside like unforgivable traitors. Chakotay had participated in a straightforward raid for supplies, and yet he'd been threatened with prosecution for mass murder, lured away from those who cared for him, and turned over to the scum of the galaxy. She had sought to discover the truth, and as a result found herself more alone, more anxious and more insecure than she'd been when Voyager had been 70,000 light years from home.

Janeway checked her clock and groaned at the lateness of the hour. The only way she could get to sleep was to meditate on a time of great peace and security, and so she found a comfortable position, closed her eyes, and remembered the treasured moments on Draxxon that had convinced her that Chakotay was still alive.

_She was lying on her side in a cold damp chamber with Chakotay's solid body spooned against her back, his arms wrapped around her, his right bicep pillowing her head. She smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, felt his warm breath against her skin, and sensed his face pressed against the softness of her hair, his mouth near her ear. He sang a familiar melody, a favorite lullaby, but the words were from his native language, beautiful in their novelty. He breathed the song quietly, as if it were a love song, and the deep rumble of his voice soothed her, lulling her into a boneless relaxation. The sentiment of the lyrics wasn't as important as the affection and sincerity in his voice or the warmth and tenderness of his embrace. With Chakotay beside her, she could relax and fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that he was watching out for her, protecting her, doing whatever she needed him to do to make her feel safe, cherished, and never alone. Never alone. _

At last, resting in the memory of Chakotay's embrace, she slept.

to be continued


	6. Tangled Web

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Paramount. The story, however, is mine.

Summary: Exiled to a deep space assignment because of her continued investigation into the Belle Colony disaster, Admiral Kathryn Janeway discovers that it is no fun to be in a war zone.

Tangled Web (part of the Belle Colony universe)

By mizvoy

Three months after "Siberia."

"Let's catch our breath while we decide what to do next." Admiral Kathryn Janeway ducked into a lateral hallway of the dilapidated Toroyan space station while the other two survivors joined her, both of them gasping for oxygen in the thin atmosphere. In the distance, she could hear the aftermath of the attack on Ambassador Tydkt and the rest of the negotiating team, random phaser fire and an occasional shout of triumph, and it was all she could do to refrain from yelling down the hallway, "I told you so!"

"It won't be long before the Toroyans figure out we escaped," her security chief, Marci Brooks warned her as she leaned over and pressed her hands against her thigh. "We have to decide what to do quickly."

"Are you hurt?" Janeway put a hand on Brooks' shoulder. "You seem to be in pain."

"Some of the debris hit me in the leg," she nodded, struggling against pain to take a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm going to slow you down."

"Maybe the Hyperion can beam us out from here." Their attempt to reach the ship from outside the conference room had failed, Janeway guessed from some sort of jamming device, and she hoped that they'd moved far enough away to be successful now. Scowling when the communications link failed, she pulled out her tricorder and discovered a complete block of communications and even more bad news. "Damn. There's no way we can transport out, Commander. The station's shields are up." She gave Brooks an exasperated look. "I thought the shields were inoperative on this old bucket."

"They are . . . or they were first thing this morning. I beamed over and supervised the security sweep myself, Admiral." Brooks' face flushed with embarrassment. The space station had been deserted for nearly ten years, since the beginning of the Union/Toroyan war, and only minimal life support and power had been restored for this brief meeting with the Federation. "They must have repaired the shielding during the meeting."

"What really matters at this point is getting the shields down so the Hyperion can beam us out of here in one piece." Janeway studied the computer access on the station's wall, gratified to see it activate with her touch. "Maybe we can tap into the computer and get detailed schematics for the station?"

"Let me try." Brooks started a deeper access of the computer. "But we'll have to hurry. They'll see my access and realize that at least some of the delegation survived the bombing."

Janeway watched her work a moment and then looked down at the man slumped on the floor at her feet. Kazuo Katsumata, Tydkt's youthful personal assistant, was an emotional wreck, visibly trembling as he cried into his hands. "Are you all right, Kazuo?"

He looked up at her, his eyes huge in a face that was smeared with blood. "If Tydkt hadn't sent me to find you, Admiral, I'd be dead, too."

"You're bleeding." She knelt beside him, gently turning his head with her hands as she looked for the source of the blood. Katsumata had been closest to the ambassador when the explosion occurred. If Brooks had been injured by stray debris, chances were good that he had been injured, as well. "Where is this blood coming from?"

He looked miserable. "I'm pretty sure it's the ambassador's blood, not mine."

"Here," she said, pulling loose the sash he wore draped across his shoulders. "Wipe the blood away with this." Janeway's first impulse was to ignore the trauma caused by their brush with death and focus instead on their immediate problem of surviving, but the young man was not as practiced at crisis management. While her training made her instinctively repress the memory of the five mangled bodies in the ruined conference room, Katsumata was still reliving it, still seeing the horror of it in his mind's eye. Step one in getting him to move past it would be to get the evidence of the ambassador's death off of his face and hands.

"I never thought something like that would happen."

Janeway gave him a grim smile. "Well, they say that the people in the diplomatic corps wear a big target on their backs. They're fair game for anyone who has a gripe with Federation policy."

"We were lucky to get away."

She nodded. The smoke and confusion swirling from the primitive bomb had covered their escape through the rear passageway, but it had also prevented Janeway from seeing who had been responsible for the assassination. Whoever they were, they were too busy celebrating their victory to realize that three of their victims had managed to escape into the bowels of the station. Luckily, their jamming device also reduced the effectiveness of the station's internal sensors.

"Admiral, we have to leave this deck." Brooks tore her eyes from the wall panel as her tricorder downloaded the schematics of the station's maze of passageways. "Shield control is in engineering, three decks down."

"And life support is working on that deck, too?"

"Yes, ma'am. The Toroyans restored power to this deck and the two below it."

"All right. With any luck, this jamming device will be located in engineering, too." Janeway stood up and studied the opposite wall, noticing a familiar-looking removable panel. "Will that access tube take us where we need to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brooks replied, snapping the tricorder shut. "I'll get started on opening it."

While Brooks struggled with the panel, Janeway turned back to Katsumata, reminding herself that he was a young, inexperienced civilian employee on his first assignment. He wasn't a Starfleet officer who had been trained to keep a level head in the midst of disaster, and he was probably facing death for the first time. Her heart went out to him as she gave him his marching orders. "Kazuo, come on. We have to go."

"The ambassador should have listened to you," he whispered as he stood up, tossing aside the blood soaked sash. "He was too proud, too sure of a miraculous success. I can see that now."

"He paid for his mistake," she answered, feeling a stab of pain for the four others he'd taken with him. "Let's just be sure nobody else does."

_She'd argued long and hard against this perilous meeting with the Toroyans, against trusting the Toroyans at all, since her arrival six weeks earlier. They might have lost the war against the Union, but they weren't about to stop fighting, and they would jump at the chance to strike out at the Federation that they believed had somehow tipped the balance in the Union's favor. _

_But, then, she didn't much like the Unionists, either. While she might be paranoid, she sensed a reticence in their treatment of her, an unwillingness to be open and candid about the war and their developing relationship with the Federation. Because of that, she hadn't asked her counterparts about Union ships detected near Belle Colony or whether they, too, were experimenting with phased cloaks. _

_"The Toroyans think we are Unionist allies," she stated flatly. "They believe we helped the Union defeat them." _

"_It's not true, and you know it," Tydkt had insisted. "We've done nothing to help the Union win the war." _

"_Just because something isn't true doesn't mean that a fanatic won't believe it's true anyway," Janeway had countered. "We aren't a disinterested party as far as they're concerned, Ambassador. Just look at your behavior over the last two years. You've never met with them, preferring to stay in Union territory and on Union facilities." _

"_Who would stay on a Toroyan facility if they had a choice in the matter? Have you seen the conditions they live in?" Tydtk had laughed. "I realize that a single Starfleet ship in Toroyan space will be vulnerable, but with all your experience captaining a solitary ship in hostile territory, you'll find a way to keep us safe." _

_"I'm not a miracle worker." She resented the way he prejudged her abilities based on what he imagined the Delta Quadrant had been like. She wanted to inform him that she'd only played against the odds when she'd had no other choice, and that the experience had terrified her, but he was never interested in a reality that forced him to change his preconceived notions. "I would never have taken Voyager into a situation as treacherous as this. No ship is safe when the enemy has nothing left to lose, sir. I can make no guarantee that we won't be attacked. And if we are, I don't think we can survive." _

_"Your humility is touching, but I have faith in your abilities." He'd waved her off with a dismissive gesture, and she'd stormed back to her office to write a blistering message to Starfleet command, even though she knew she'd receive little or no support for her position. Ultimately, Tydkt had gotten his way, and he and four others were dead as a result. _

"Got it," Brooks reported as she lowered the panel to the floor. "Once you two climb through, I'll put the panel back so they won't know where you disappeared to."

Janeway stared at the woman who had been her only real ally since she'd arrived at her new assignment. "Marci, what are you saying?"

"They're getting closer, Admiral. Can't you hear them?" Brooks peered into the shadowy passageway. "They'll know we accessed their computer from this location. If they see me running away, they'll follow me instead of stopping here. That should give you more time to escape."

"I'm not leaving you behind," Janeway said, pushing back panic she felt at Brook's sacrifice. "I can't let you do this."

"Admiral, I'm pretty sure my leg is broken. There's no way I can climb through that hatch and down the ladder." She put a reassuring hand on Janeway's shoulder and gave her the tricorder that held the station's schematics. "When you get to engineering and drop the shields, Hyperion can beam me out at the same time they do you."

Janeway pulled the commander into a fierce hug, both of them unwilling to admit that Brooks probably wouldn't survive long enough to be rescued. "You're a fine officer and a wonderful friend, Marci."

Brooks pulled away and then picked up the panel. "Get going, you two. I have to get this back in place and be ready to lure those bastards away from here."

Katsumata, who was still too stunned to realize what the Starfleet officers had been arguing about, climbed into the tunnel. "How far down?" he asked, his face framed by the access port.

"Three decks," Janeway said, waiting for him to descend and then crawling in behind him. She paused as Brooks rested the panel on the bottom ledge and gazed at her commanding officer with a look of calm resignation in her eyes. "Stay alive, Marci. I'll scan for you."

"I know you will, Admiral," she smiled, an affectionate look in her eyes. "I've loved serving with you, ma'am. Tuvok told me you were a great boss, but he didn't do you justice."

Too distressed to reply, Janeway nodded and headed down the ladder as the panel slid into place, plunging them into a murky darkness that was weakly moderated by the glow of the emergency lighting system. Beneath her, Katsumata said, "How do I get this panel open?"

Janeway rolled her eyes. "Climb past it, Kazuo. I'll get it open, go through, and then you can climb back up and join me."

The lower deck was dark and icy, barely habitable. Before she replaced the panel, Janeway searched inside the tunnel for an emergency light, relieved to find one that was conveniently placed just inside the entry. She snapped it on, set it on the floor, and looked at Katsumata. "Help me put this panel back."

He complied without comment, but she saw that he was shivering with cold and fear, not only completely out of his element, but also in shock. She was on her own, unable to count on him for support, and so she had to think clearly.

Katsumata's voice was faint when he asked, "What now?"

"Now we figure out how to get to engineering." She picked up the light and used it to study the schematics on her tricorder, conscious of the man's gaze. She glanced up at the markings on the wall and then started down the passage. "Follow me."

_Tydkt had left her standing when she entered his office instead of asking her to take a seat, but she wasn't about to be intimidated by his formality. No matter what happened, she had to be sure her opposition to the upcoming meeting with the Toroyans was a matter of record. _

_Tydkt glanced up from his computer, gazing at her over his antique reading glasses with a look of annoyance. "Well, Admiral? What do you want?"_

"_I've studied the proposed location for this meeting carefully, Ambassador, and I don't like it one bit. Temporarily reactivating a deserted station sounds like a recipe for disaster to me." _

_"The Toroyan leaders prefer to avoid the Union border." _

_"I can understand their fears, but the station is too deep in Toroyan space, and going there in a single ship is too risky. I can't in good conscience approve of this unless Starfleet sends at least two more ships as official escorts. No harm would be done if we postpone this meeting for a few days." _

_Tydkt's face turned crimson with fury. "The diplomatic 'harm' of such cowardice is mine to determine, Admiral." _

"_Sir," she replied, struggling to keep her own temper in check, " there's a big difference between cowardice and caution, a difference that can also be a matter of life and death." _

"_You've been quite adamant that a personal meeting with the rebels is long overdue, and I've decided that you have a valid point. I'm in no mood to delay." He took off his reading glasses and laid them on the desk, looking up at her with an air of tolerant dismay, as if he were lecturing a cadet on the rudimentary elements of diplomacy. "I assure you that we have nothing to fear from the Toroyans. They've lost the war! Their military is in shambles, without even one respectable starship at their disposal. Hyperion is more than a match for them." _

_She felt her face grow warm with anger. "With all due respect, sir, it's my job to advise you on military matters, and I'm telling you that taking a single ship this deep into their space is too dangerous. What if they throw a dozen ships at us? What if one ship decides to make a suicide attack? These fanatics won't hesitate to sacrifice their lives to bring down a Federation ambassador and embarrass Starfleet." _

_He studied her in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. "Frankly, Janeway, I'm surprised at you--the Hero of Voyager. I specifically asked that you be assigned here because of your experience in fluid situations like this." He looked her over so carefully that she wondered if he was checking her uniform for coffee stains. "You, of all people, should know what a single ship can do, Admiral." _

_She leaned on his desk, bringing her face to his level so she could look him right in the eye. "And I know even better what a single ship cannot do, Ambassador." _

_They glared at each other for a long moment before Tydkt shrugged and gave her a sly smile, leaning back in his chair for some much-needed space. "You have your orders," he said, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. "You haven't forgotten how to obey orders, I assume." _

_She straightened up, struggling to hold her temper and gain control of her voice. Finally, in despair, she said, "Yes, sir. I remember how to follow orders. But, in this case, I do so under protest." _

"_Do what you must." He sneered at her. "I'm terribly displeased with your cowardice and pessimism. Upon our return from the Toroyan meeting, you should plan on yet another reassignment." _

_She narrowed her eyes. "If I live that long, Ambassador, I'll welcome a transfer." _

_She turned and left the room without looking back. _

_She loved having the last word._

Janeway picked her way through the station's maze of corridors with the flashlight in one hand and the schematics in the other, Katsumata so close behind her she could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. He whispered, "Couldn't we just hide and wait for them to find us?"

"Which 'them' are you expecting will find us, Kazuo?"

"Why, Captain Schuler! The Hyperion! I'm sure they noticed the explosion."

"Of course they did. But I'm afraid that if we don't keep moving, the Toroyans will find us before they do." She paused at a juncture and looked both ways, struggling to get her bearings. "I think we'd better turn left. We'll follow this corridor around and then make a right."

"Couldn't the captain just beam us out?"

Janeway sighed, reminding herself of Katsumata's youth and inexperience. "Once we get the shields down, he'll do just that."

The young man seemed satisfied with her reassuring words, and Janeway was glad she had kept her own skepticism from him. With communications jammed, they hadn't heard anything from Schuler since before the explosion, and not knowing what was going on outside the station had her worried. It was likely that the ship had come under attack as soon as the station's shields had come up and the explosion occurred. Otherwise, Schuler would have already beamed them out or sent in a team in to rescue them. It made sense that the assassins had two goals in mind: eliminate a "partisan" ambassador and seize a powerful Federation ship for their own use.

Janeway arrived at the next turn and stopped to think. She was shivering in the cold and could hear the unmistakable sound of teeth chattering behind her. "We'd better look around for an emergency supply locker before we go any farther."

Unused facilities were usually left stocked with minimal emergency supplies for use in case of need, and Janeway hoped to find a few necessities still available. The tricorder identified a nearby locker, and they quickly opened it and examined the contents. While most of its supplies had been ransacked, they found a couple of thermal jumpsuits, some emergency rations, and another flashlight, all of which were desperately needed.

"Well, this is a start." Janeway stepped into the oversized jumpsuit, grateful for the warmth it provided her, even if it would fit a Nausican.

Katsumata put on the second suit and gave her a shy grin as she rolled up the sleeves and legs on her own. "I don't think that's your size, Admiral."

She laughed and shrugged. "Just my luck. Many people underestimate me because of my small stature." She smiled back at him as she stood up and explored the pockets of the suit, slipping the rations into one on her hip and an extra power cell into another. "We'll need more supplies, so I'll put you in charge of finding another locker as we go."

"Good idea," he replied, his eyes serious. "Commander Brooks might need a jumpsuit, too, when she catches up with us."

Janeway put a hand on Katsumata's shoulder and looked at him with maternal affection. Did he really think Marci would survive without being killed or captured? Not even Harry Kim had been so naïve and trusting when he'd reported to Voyager, but she knew that this wasn't the time to disabuse him of his innocence "Yes, you're right," she agreed, and then she moved past him down the corridor. "We'd better hurry."

They hadn't gone far when they were suddenly thrown to the floor by a powerful jolt that rocked the station and momentarily disrupted its artificial gravity. Her tricorder and the flashlights skittered down the passageway, and Janeway covered her head as a second and third blast hit the station and debris rained down from the ceiling.

"What's happening?" Katsumata's distress was rising. "Is the station falling apart?"

"Phaser fire," Janeway replied as she sat up and spied the glow of one of the flashlights beneath the debris. "Pick up the other flashlight and help me find the tricorder."

He followed her orders and was soon crawling along the floor beside her. "Whose phasers are hitting the station?"

"I don't know, Kazuo." She pushed the broken material aside, using her flashlight to search through the tangle of rubble. "As of this morning the station had no weapons, but then it didn't have shields, either. I'm guessing the battle is going on between Hyperion and whoever assassinated the ambassador. We're probably getting hit by stray shots as they use the station for cover." She spied the tricorder and dove for it just as the station shuddered under another jolt of weapon's fire.

"The assassins were the Toroyans, right?"

"I thought so at first," she answered, opening the tricorder and calling up the schematics. "Now I'm not so sure. Weren't the Toroyans still in the room when the explosion occurred?"

"Yeah." Katsumata's eyes widened with surprise. "All of the major Toroyans leaders were still there."

Janeway shook her head. "I was afraid of that." Another blast threw them against the wall, but this time she held onto her equipment.

"Then who's attacking Hyperion if it isn't the Toroyans?" Katsumata was crouching against the wall, his arms crossed over his head as the station creaked and groaned around them. She reactivated the tricorder and scanned the nearby area, trying not to frown. The damage done by the phasers was making their situation significantly worse.

"Kazuo, the attack on the ambassador was just part of what's happening here. I'm guessing that there's a battle going on between the Hyperion and whoever staged the assassination. If might be Toroyans. Or the Union. If I'm right, those could be anyone's phasers hitting the station, even Hyperion's. It doesn't really matter in the long run."

Katasumata was horrified. "Our own ship is shooting at us?"

"Not on purpose." She heard the rising panic in his voice and tried to reassure him. "Listen carefully, Kazuo. We can't worry about what is going on out there. Our job is to get to engineering and drop the shields so that the three of us can be safely beamed back to the ship. Captain Schuler is dealing with the battle out there and will be there for us when the time comes."

"You can't know that! What if Hyperion's shields are up, too?" His eyes were wide with fear.

"Then he'll drop them and beam us aboard."

"We're going to get blown up by our own ship!" Katsumata looked around in alarm at the derelict station. "We're going to die!"

"Not if I can help it." She knelt beside him and grabbed his shoulders, waiting until he calmed down and gazed into her eyes. "We'll face one thing at a time, Kazuo. Right now we'll focus on getting to engineering. Once we're there, we'll face the next challenge, whatever that is. We're in this together."

He stared at her a moment and then nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, Admiral."

"Good." She took the other flashlight, tested it, and handed it to him. "It looks like the route we were taking to engineering is no longer an option, so we're going to backtrack and try another way." She stood up and offered him a hand. "This is going to take time, so it's more important than ever that you find more emergency caches."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, let's go." The infrequent and glancing nature of the phaser blasts that hit the station told her that they were not the direct focus of an attack, but that wasn't much consolation since every shot, however minor, decreased their chances of survival. The Toroyans had done a temporary fix to the power supply, and life support was growing precarious. It was noticeably colder, even with their jumpsuits, and the oxygen levels were dropping steadily.

Katsumata located a few more emergency lockers as they picked their way through the corridors, but neither had much useful left in them. Scavengers had done a thorough job of taking whatever the Toroyans had left behind in the years since the station had been moth balled.

In spite of their slow progress, Janeway tried to keep a positive attitude. They hadn't been taken captive, the space station was still in one piece, and they were making their way to engineering, even if the trip was slow. After a two-hour struggle, they arrived at a safety hatch that sealed the engineering section off from the rest of the station, only to find it sealed and locked.

Janeway was studying her tricorder in an effort to open the hatchway when Katsumata said, "Where did you and Commander Brooks go during the meeting? Ambassador Tydkt was furious that you disappeared like that."

Janeway stopped her efforts and looked at the young man carefully. It seemed like days since she and Marci had excused themselves from the opening session and had hastened down a passageway toward a clandestine meeting with an unknown contact who she hoped had information on Belle Colony. She shook her head at how quickly everything had turned to complete catastrophe. She said, "There are some things, Kazuo, that you're better off not knowing."

He swallowed and then asked the question that Janeway realized must have been haunting him for hours, "Did you have advance knowledge of the attack?"

Janeway's eyes narrow at his implied allegation, and she stood up and glared at the young man in the eye, gratified to see him cringe at her fury. "It's been a hell of a long day, Mr. Katsumata, and we're both exhausted, so I'm going to ignore your accusation. I will say this: If I had known in advance about the explosion, I assure you that none of us would have beamed to the station."

"It's just . . . that you left right before it happened, and then . . . ."

"I know how it looks, Kazuo, but the timing of my departure was purely coincidental. I had arranged for a private briefing, that's all."

"All right." Katsumata smiled weakly. "I figured it was something like that."

"Now let me focus on getting us through this hatch." She returned to her work, but couldn't help but consider what she and Brooks had discovered on their brief side trip. She wondered if she had made a mistake by not contacting Schuler as soon as the meeting turned sour.

_Janeway and Brooks knew him only as Pegasus. Soon after Janeway's arrival in Union territory, a winged horse mysteriously began to appear on her view screen only to disappear without a trace before she could figure out its source. She recognized the image as a Pegasus from Greek mythology, but it wasn't until she had Brooks look into its significance that she grasped its true significance. The U.S.S. Pegasus was a Starfleet ship that had experimented with an illegal phased cloaking device a few years earlier. The coincidence of the same cloak being researched on Belle Colony was too tantalizing for Janeway to ignore. She waited impatiently for Pegasus to contact her directly. _

_When the arrangements for the meeting between Ambassador Tydkt and the Toroyans were finalized, Janeway's copy of the agreement included a private attachment for her eyes only, an attachment that had the winged horse on its cover. The diagram it included was a schematic of the deck where their meeting with the Toyoran leaders would occur with a separate chamber starred and a route indicated. Beneath the chart was a time—just after the delegation's arrival—and a picture indicating no weapons and only two people. _

_Janeway and Brooks told the ambassador that they were doing a last security check of the area when left the conference room right after the formal introductions had been completed. Once out of the room, Brooks opened her tricorder and nodded down an empty hallway. _

"_We're supposed to go down this way, and then take the first left. Follow that hall to the next hallway and turn right. The chamber we want is behind the first door on the left." _

"_All right." Janeway led the way. "Do we know if this Pegasus is Unionist or Toroyan?" _

_Brooks shrugged. "It could go either way, I guess." _

_Janeway took the first left and continued down the hall, wondering when she'd last taken a risk this big, meeting an unknown individual without a phaser in hand or a transporter lock in place. After they made the next right, she paused at the first door on the left and looked at Brooks. "Do we just knock?" _

"_Here, let me." Brooks stepped protectively between Janeway and the door and raised her hand to knock when she suddenly stopped. From inside the room came the sounds of a terrible struggle followed by a fierce cry of pain. _

_Janeway moved to the control panel beside the door and pulled off its cover. "We need to get in there before it's too late." _

_While Janeway worked on the door release mechanism, Brooks put one hand flat on each panel of the door and fought to physically pull them apart. They could hear multiple voices shouting, furniture being thrown around, glass breaking, the sound of feet as someone tried to escape. There was a blood-curdling scream, and then the room became ominously silent. _

_The two women looked at each other in surprise, and Brooks threw herself more enthusiastically into her task, managing to get the doors a few inches apart. _

"_Help me," she groaned through gritted teeth. Janeway slipped her fingers into the crack and pulled in one direction while Brooks pulled in the other. When the door finally yielded with a metallic shriek, they peered into the shadowy room, standing side-by-side to prop the doors open. _

_"Hello?" Janeway said. The room was cold and dark, lit only by the weak starlight from the viewport, and the furnishings were a chaotic mess. "Is anyone there?" _

_There was no movement or sound as the two women studied the interior. Janeway gestured at Brooks to hold the doors as she took a step into the chamber. _

_"Admiral." Brooks protested, shaking her head. "Let me." _

_"It'll be okay." Janeway moved past a broken table just inside the door and scanned the room for a body or any other clue that would tell her who had been fighting. She quickly realized that the destruction was too great to have come from the struggle. The station had been abandoned for nearly ten years and been the repeated sanctuary of scavengers and space pirates. _

_She pulled out her tricorder. The floor was littered with shards of glass and broken dishes, pieces of furniture, cast off equipment, rotting food, and filthy torn clothing. It looked as though someone had lived in the room for awhile, although not recently. She pushed the debris around with her boot, looking for anything that could be useful, kneeling down when she spied an undamaged isolinear chip peeking out from a pile of broken glass. _

_She scanned it and realized that it was in perfect condition, the only thing in the room that wasn't in shambles. She had just slipped it into her pocket when young Kazuo Katsumata appeared behind Commander Brooks and peered into the room. _

_"Admiral, the ambassador wants to start the meeting and sent me to find you." _

_"I'm coming." She stood up and smoothed her uniform, moving quickly for the door. _

_Not two minutes later, just as the three of them arrived at the meeting room door, all hell broke loose. _

Although it was a waste of time to play these games, Janeway wondered what would have happened if she'd contacted Schuler then, as soon as her covert contact had disappeared? Would Ambassador Tydkt and the others from the delegation still be alive? Could they have beamed away from the station before the communication jamming began and the shields were raised?

She paused as a wave of guilt washed over her. She hadn't contacted the ship because her meeting was not part of the official mission of the delegation. And if she and Brooks had remained at the ambassador's side, they might have noticed something in time to prevent the assassination.

She suddenly felt sick at her stomach, for she realized that her personal fixation with Belle Colony had at last interfered with her performance of duty. Lives had been lost. She had been away from her post at a critical moment. She wasn't so worried about the official repercussions of her actions, those she deserved and would accept without complaint. But the moral ones, the responsibility for the people who had trusted her with their lives, loomed large before her.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the work. She wouldn't have to worry about punishment or her conscience if she didn't survive this situation, but her consternation and the frigid cold made it almost impossible to hold both the tricorder and the flashlight. She glanced at Katsumata who stood shivering just behind her with his arms wrapped around himself.

"Kazuo, hold this flashlight so I can use see what I'm doing."

He did as she ordered automatically, but the light wavered as he shook with cold. "The phasers have stopped," he mentioned in a whisper. "What does that mean?"

She frowned, imagining a half dozen different scenarios before choosing one that would be the least frightening to her young companion. "Hyperion's best defense is her superior speed. The best tactic would be to outrun her attackers and pick them off one-by-one in the process."

Katsumata lowered the light in shock. "You mean the ship's gone?"

"They'll be back." She waited a moment before returning to the task at hand. "Now, I need the light on the control panel."

He didn't move a muscle. "But what if they think everyone was killed in the explosion? Wouldn't they just head for Federation space?"

Janeway had tried hard not to think of that possibility and wasn't happy with the Katsumata for bringing it up. "Captain Schuler has both a Federation ambassador and a Starfleet admiral on an away mission. He would never leave us behind unless he did a full scan for survivors, even if he has to come back later. In the meantime, we need to stop the jamming device so we can contact him and make sure he knows we're alive, and then we need to drop the shields so he can beam us back to the ship."

That comment did the trick. Katsumata focused the light on the panel with renewed enthusiasm. "The quiet could mean that the battle is over and the ship is on its way back."

"That's a definite possibility, Kazuo." Janeway smiled as the solution to opening the hatch suddenly appeared on the tricorder's screen. "Ah! I think we're in, at last."

Later, it would seem to Janeway that her activation of the door mechanism in some way triggered the deafening explosion that rocked the station, for just as her finger touched the pad, she and Katsumata were falling backward down the hallway that was abruptly vertical instead of horizontal. They were blinded and deafened by the blast that seemed to roll toward them as they fell, and they landed with terrific force against the wall of the intersecting hallway where they surrendered to blessed oblivion.

To be continued


	7. The Minefield

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: After seeing his friends and helping save Kathryn Janeway's life on Draxxon, Chakotay struggles to get on with his life.

Note: This story occurs three weeks after "Tangled Web."

The Minefield (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

"Tyee, I thought you said that your bad reputation with small ships was exaggerated." Ray Borland glanced at Chakotay as they struggled to keep their ship from flying apart. "I have to admit . . . I'm beginning to wonder."

"We passed through this region just a week ago, Borland," Chakotay replied, his voice strained by his effort to stay at the pilot's console as the ship careened through the debris field, "and there weren't mines anywhere around this region, cloaked or otherwise."

"Well, somebody's been busy, because they're obviously here now." Borland sighed with relief as the antimatter flow stabilized, allowing him to take the warp core offline. The ship had survived the explosion, but not without significant damage, including an inoperative life support system, malfunctioning inertial dampeners, and a cabin slowly filling with smoke.

They continued to work on repairs in silence, unwilling to admit openly that they were in serious trouble. In the time-honored code of space farers, they focused their energies on surviving rather than the contemplation of their imminent demise, and they often managed to crack a few jokes in the process.

Hostilities had resumed between the Union and the Toroyans just three weeks earlier, and in the meantime every ship had been open to attack, even an underpowered and lightly armed Caritas supply ship traveling in a backwater section of space. It was because of this increased danger that Riker had very nearly cancelled the relief mission into the hottest part of the war zone. He reluctantly agreed to let them go when Chakotay laid out a roundabout course that avoided every known location of Toroyan or Union military patrols.

"You're taking a big chance, Tyee. Just hope no one figures out that you have a Federation reward on your head," Riker had warned them, obviously unhappy about their decision to complete the mission. "And if you get caught, you'll be on your own. You'll be too far away for us to assist you."

Chakotay looked up from his panel. "You know, that mine had a really sophisticated cloaking system. No wonder our systems missed it."

"Why would someone put mines way out here?" Borland wondered aloud. "There isn't anything in this system worth fighting over, is there?"

"Not that I know of. It isn't even close to an important trade route." He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nothing makes sense any more."

Chakotay glanced at his partner with a wry grin. "Of course, pirates might choose to attack vulnerable ships in a place like this. Ships that are trying to sneak past the battle zone."

"Pirates? Too bad we already left all the supplies with the Sestwani or we could strike a deal with them."

"I'm not sure they have much use for what we delivered to the Sestwani. I just hope they don't need spare parts. Or cheap labor."

Borland cast him a worried look. "Everything in this whole sector has gone to hell since the assassination." He winced, noticing that his remark brought an expression of pure anguish to his partner's face. "Sorry, Tyee. I shouldn't have brought that up."

"That's all right," Chakotay lied, giving Borland a weak smile as the ship finally lurched to a dead stop. "The worst part is wondering whether Kathryn survived."

"Yeah. That's tough."

After the noise of the mine's explosion and of the ship nearly disintegrating in its aftermath, the eerie silence that surrounded them was an ominous sign of severe, maybe even permanent damage. The air scrubbers suddenly activated with a demented whine, more noisy than they were effective, and then shut down just as quickly. The transporter panel in the back of the cockpit shorted out with a brilliant blue crackle. Chakotay looked at his console in despair. "I have more red lights than green. How about you?"

Borland groaned. "You don't want to know. I think we're lucky to be alive."

"They probably want us in one piece." Chakotay glanced around at the cockpit, noticing that the smoke was descending to a level just above their heads. He grabbed the filtration masks from under the console and handed one to Borland. "Maybe they want a damaged ship, ripe and ready for plunder."

"Don't think like that!" Borland complained.

Chakotay pulled on the mask and headed for the engineering station near the back of the cockpit, waving his arms to keep the billowing smoke from blocking his view. When he spoke, the comm device in the mask activated automatically, giving the two men a clear signal. "We need to get auxiliary power on line before we freeze to death or suffocate."

"While you do that, I'll look at subspace communications." They worked silently for a few minutes. Then Borland said, "So you figure whoever owns the mines will be coming for us?"

"Yeah, and it won't be long, either." They both knew that pirates would take possession of the ship and probably force them to join their crew. Unless they killed them. Neither man wanted to think about the possibility that the mines were placed by bounty hunters who had somehow found out where he was hiding. "Forget subspace communications for now. If we can get sensors online, we can try to avoid the raiders."

"I'll do what I can," Borland answered as he turned the console on his right, "but it won't be much."

While the computer ran a diagnostic on their impulse engine, Chakotay coded their location into a communications buoy and jettisoned it, programming it to activate in six hours. By then, he estimated, they'd be captured or dead, but at least the Caritas would know what had happened to them.

The war had plunged the entire region into chaos. Shipping lanes that had been relatively safe for years were suddenly raging battlefields, and asteroid belts that had been admired for their beauty had become hiding places for pirates and mercenaries who scavenged damaged and abandoned ships for whatever they could use or sell.

In spite of the increased danger, the Caritas had redoubled their efforts to help the victims of war, bringing food, medicine, and replacement parts to refugees who were helplessly caught between the factions. No one had been more energized by that effort than Chakotay, but the reality was that the Caritas' difficult mission had just been made impossible, and there was little anyone could do about it until the war ended.

As Borland worked on the sensors, he remembered how difficult the last six months had been for his partner. The problems had all started on Draxxon after Chakotay had rescued his former captain from the bar that had exploded around them. Even months later, the memories of those tense hours were vivid.

_Chakotay arrived at their beam out sight twenty minutes late and carrying an unconscious woman in his arms. Outside the ramshackle building, the bar room brawl had spread into the street and was quickly deteriorating into true chaos. What had begun as a simple accusation of cheating had triggered a battle between two or three rival gangs and threatened to turn the planet's surface into a war zone. Riker, who had already beamed back to the orbiting ship, had ordered everyone aboard as soon as possible, and Borland had been in near panic over the tardiness of his partner. _

_He met Chakotay, glancing with dismay at the burden he carried. "This is hardly the time to be picking up women, Tyee." _

_For the first time in the year they'd worked together, Borland received the full brunt of Chakotay's anger. "Can't you see she's injured?" he yelled as he gently placed the unconscious woman on a pad on the floor. "She risked her life to save mine, and she didn't even know for sure who I was." _

_Borland watched as Chakotay unfastened the woman's parka. When he saw who she was, he nearly fainted. "Kathryn Janeway?" he asked in amazement. "She saved your life?" _

"_She threw her body over mine when the bar exploded. If she hadn't, this piece of debris in her shoulder would have hit me full in the chest. It's just like her to risk her life for a stranger." _

_Chakotay used his knife to cut the parka away from the vicious shard of metal that protruded from the creamy white skin just above her bra. Her face was ashen, her turtleneck and jacket sodden with blood that continued to stream from the wound. Not only was her breathing labored, but an ominous trickle of blood escaped from the corner of her mouth and her nose, indicating damage to a lung. _

_"She's in bad shape, Tyee. She's lost too much blood. Let's just beam her to her ship and get the hell out of here." Outside the building, the sounds of the fight grew louder as the combatants searched for better positions, and Borland was in no mood for a brawl. _

_"I don't know where her ship is, Ray, and it would take too much time to find it. She needs first aid right now, or she won't leave here alive." _

_"But, Tyee, look at her. She needs more than first aid. Let's beam her to our ship." _

_"It would be a waste of time. I can do as much for her here as we could do on the ship!" Chakotay's eyes blazed with fury. He waved the knife at Borland as an obvious threat. "Shut up and start helping me or she won't be the only one who needs medical help." _

_Borland knew better than to argue any further. "I'll have Riker beam down whatever you need." By the time the medkit and other emergency supplies materialized beside them, Chakotay had cut away the rest of her turtleneck and was contemplating the best way to remove the piece of metal. _

"_You should vaporize it," Borland suggested, handing him a medical tricorder. "I've done it before to wounds like that, and the heat cauterizes the bleeders and seals the wound." _

"_Yeah, and it could even help the collapsed lung re-inflate." Chakotay administered a hypospray of antibiotics and pain killers and then picked up Janeway's damaged commbadge, handing it to Borland. "They've got to be scanning for her signal. See if you can fix this while I work on her shoulder." _

"_You know, this probably saved her life." The nearly unrecognizable commbadge had been badly damaged by the point of the projectile, its underside deeply dented and the data chip cracked. "I'm not sure it can be fixed, but I'll try," he muttered as he moved away to a spot with better light. Outside the battle continued to grow in intensity as the combatants moved down the street toward them. _

_Whether Chakotay didn't realize Borland could hear him talking to Janeway or whether he simply didn't care, Borland never knew, but he couldn't help but overhear Chakotay's constant chatter as he worked on the wound. _

"_Kathryn, I asked you to let me go. I deserve whatever abuse or injury I get for my mistakes, but here you are, risking your life and everyone else's, suffering because of a misplaced loyalty to me." He paused as he carefully calibrated the medical phaser to vaporize the projectile without causing more damage to her flesh. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt." _

_Janeway groaned as the shard glowed bright red and then disappeared. Her eyes fluttered open and almost seemed to focus on him. "Chakotay? Are you all right?" _

"_I'm fine," he answered her gently, smiling down at her as he took her hand. "Everybody's fine." _

"_And the ship?" She gripped his hand hard, struggling to sit up. "The ship isn't damaged?" _

"_Voyager's all right." He placed a hand on her undamaged shoulder to keep her from moving. "You need to lie down and let me take care of you." _

_Her eyes lost their focus as she sank back in relief and closed her eyes. "As long as everybody's okay." _

_Borland watched as Chakotay hesitated, his head bowed as if in prayer. "Always everyone else first," he muttered, and then quickly applied a field bandage to her wound, front and back, carefully rolling her over to make sure the bleeding had stopped. Janeway shuddered in pain, her skin so white Borland wondered if she was beyond help. He hoped that they weren't risking their lives over a woman who wasn't going to survive anyway. He looked down at the damaged commbadge in despair. _

_"This is beyond repair," he complained, holding the commbadge toward his partner. "The components are completely fused, and I can't even determine the frequency they were using to contact the ship." The words were barely out of his mouth when a grenade hit just outside the building, causing dust and debris to filter down from the ceiling and blowing out a window at the far side of the room. Borland covered his head with his arms, suddenly frightened. "The situation on Draxxon is rapidly destabilizing, Tyee. It's every man for himself out there. If we don't go now, I can't guarantee that we'll get away at all." _

_Chakotay slowly covered his patient with a survival blanket and then took the commbadge from Borland's hand, turning it over thoughtfully before he spoke again, this time his voice as cold as the breeze that was blowing through the window. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I'm not leaving until she's back on her ship. And you aren't leaving without me." _

"_You don't even know if she'll make it, Tyee. Her lung's collapsed, she's lost a hell of a lot of blood, and . . . ." _

_Before Borland knew what was happening, Chakotay grabbed him and slammed his body against the wall, his right arm pressed so hard against his throat that it was impossible to breathe. Chakotay's face, crimson with fury, was just inches away, and there was a murderous anger in his eyes. "If you worked on the commbadge instead of worrying about your sorry skin, we could be on our way by now." _

_Borland blinked and tried to speak, his voice little more than a croak. _

_Chakotay backed off slightly, as if he suddenly realized what he'd done, and his voice softened as he glanced away in embarrassment. "We aren't leaving until we contact her ship and she's beamed safely aboard. Have I made myself clear?" _

_Chakotay released him, and Borland felt his feet touch the floor. He rubbed his throat and swallowed before he tried to speak again. "Give me ten more minutes. I'll use parts from my commbadge if I have to." _

_Chakotay backed away and returned to the woman who lay shivering with shock and cold on the pad on the floor. As he gently wrapped her in the survival blanket, they spoke to each other, so softly that Borland couldn't hear the words, and then Chakotay lay down beside her, pulling her close as he tried to warm her with his body. Until Borland finally made the repairs, the two of them lay curled together, and Chakotay sang a soothing lullaby that Boland had heard him use when rocking a sick or frightened orphan to sleep. _

_He'd heard other Caritas speculate about the relationship between Voyager's command team, but he'd never really taken it seriously. He knew now, without a doubt, how deeply Chakotay loved Kathryn Janeway. _

"I'm sending every shred of spare power to the sensors. Do you see anything?" Chakotay asked as he examined the automated report on the ship's engines. "The way these engines look, we're going to be here awhile."

"Sensors aren't functioning yet, and they won't be until we get more power."

Chakotay nodded, continuing to work on repairs even though he didn't have much hope for escape or rescue. "Any chance of contacting the Caritas? Letting them know where we are and what happened?"

Borland shook his head. "Communications are offline. Should I activate the emergency beacon?"

"Better not. Whoever laid the mines can find us quick enough without our help. Just work on the sensors, and if that seems impossible, get subspace working so we can let the others know where we are."

Chakotay paused, shifting into a tactical line of thought as he considered who might have had a reason to lay cloaked subspace mines in such remote territory. The accounts of the opening rounds of the hostilities had seemed to point toward a swift and complete Union victory, almost as if the Toroyans were fighting modern weapons with sticks and stones. Every fight was a Toroyan disaster with total annihilation of their forces, and every battle redrew the boundaries of space in the Union's favor.

With typical ferocity, the Toroyans fought on without regard of the cost, and then, miraculously, they began to make headway against their foes. By the second week of hostilities, the Toroyans had made significant gains against the more powerful Union and had even begun to reclaim territory that had been lost. He'd studied the reports with great care, trying to account for their sudden change in tactics and their unexpected success in anticipating the Union's moves, but he simply didn't have enough information to understand what had happened. He wondered if there was something about this backwater area that would explain their good fortune.

He shook his head, focusing on the matter at hand, grateful that the air handlers had functioned well enough to let him remove the stifling mask. "Several power relays need to be replaced," he told Borland. "I'll go below and see what I can do."

"Okay, but be careful. No telling how volatile those power relays are."

Chakotay pulled up the floor hatch that led to the engineering deck below and grinned at his friend. "You aren't thinking about Ro Laren's warning, I hope."

"That you have a death wish?" Borland laughed at the thought as he pulled off his mask and rubbed his face with his hands. "I figure you aren't any worse about that than usual." He watched Chakotay disappear into the hatch and frowned as he remembered how worried they had all been for his well-being after the Draxxon meeting.

_There had been an obvious change in Chakotay after their brief meeting with Kathryn Janeway and the other members of Voyager's crew. When the two men finally returned to the ship from the planet's surface, Chakotay retreated to his cabin without a word to anyone and remained there for the six days it took to return to the Caritas' base. He simply failed to show up for his shifts on the bridge, and he refused to answer the hails from the rest of the crew who were worried sick about his state of mind and well-being. _

_Finally, Tom Riker used his command codes to gain access to Chakotay's quarters. The rest of the crew had waited with great anticipation while Riker spent several hours with alone with him. However, he never shared a word with anyone about he'd seen or heard while with Chakotay. He simply emerged from the tiny room looking tired and depressed and asked Ro Laren to rework the schedule without including Chakotay._

_That was just the first indication of his retreat from the Caritas. When they arrived at their base, Chakotay simply disappeared without a word of explanation, moving back to the farm to help Marilas with the harvest and to prepare the equipment, buildings, and animals for the quickly approaching winter season. He wanted to be left alone, and the Caritas honored that, but Borland, who was closer to him than anyone else, occasionally contacted Marilas to ask about him. _

"_He's grieving," she explained, after telling him once again that Chakotay was not accepting calls. "The reality of his loss is simply too overwhelming, I think. To see Kathryn and the others, to know that they are alive and living their lives without him has been something he's struggled to put out of his mind for too long. Now, he must come to terms with it." _

"_We're worried about him," Borland replied. "We're afraid he'll . . . well, we're afraid for him." _

_She smiled. "You mean suicide?" _

"_It's occurred to us. How many times can a man lose everything he loves and keep on living?"_

_Her face grew sad and tears filled her eyes. "He's much stronger than you think, Ray. Life here sustains him. The contact with nature. The love and affection from the children. The hard work that needs so desperately to be done. He's needed here. He's loved. It isn't what he wants or dreams of, but it's enough. It has to be." _

_And she was right, it was enough . . . until Chakotay heard through the grapevine that Admiral Kathryn Janeway was being assigned to the borderlands of Union space as Admiral Tydyk's military attaché. Soon after that news was confirmed, Chakotay appeared at the Caritas base. Borland hadn't been surprised when Chakotay suddenly resurfaced, nor was he surprised when he volunteered for any mission that took him toward Federation space, even though the region was fraught with danger. Without a word, he became his partner again and willingly accompanied him on whatever missions he wanted to take. _

_They had made one trip to the Sestwani camp prior to the assassination and had a second trip planned when outbreak of hostilities threw the entire region into war. Riker wanted to cancel the trip._

"_It's too dangerous, Tyee," Ro Laren warned them. "You're asking for trouble." _

"_The Sestwani need the supplies more now than ever," Chakotay disagreed. "You haven't seen the conditions they live in." _

"_They need to move away from the war zone," Riker chimed in. "You need to talk to them about that, try to convince them. Make sure they understand that this is our last supply mission to their present location." _

_Chakotay frowned, but nodded in agreement. _

_As Borland was leaving the building, Ro Laren stopped him, pulling him aside for a private conversation. "Think about whether you really want to go with him, Ray. He seems better, but I'm not sure he's stable. This could be a suicide mission you're getting caught up in." _

"_Not any worse than usual, I guess." Borland had shrugged the idea off, but he hadn't forgotten her warning. _

Chakotay emerged from the engineering access with two twisted and blackened power relays in his hands. "Are the replicators online?" he asked as he tossed the relays into the recycler.

"Barely." Borland continued to work on sensors in silence before asking, "Do you think the rumor's true about the Union having phased cloaks?"

"Phased cloaks would explain a lot. It would explain how the ships showed up unexpectedly so deep inside Toroyan space. But your guess is as good as mine who has the cloaks."

"I didn't think they were feasible."

"Phased cloaks?" Chakotay grinned as the power relays appeared in the replicator slot. "We ran into a few in the Delta Quadrant. There are ways to overcome their greed for power, but I've never seen one that works perfectly. Once you figure out how to scan for them, it's not that hard to see them."

Borland thought about that. "Yeah, well, what are the chances the Toroyans would figure out how to scan for them?"

"Yeah, I've thought of that, too. They just aren't that technologically advanced." Chakotay sat on the edge of the access to think. "At first, it looked like the Union would win easily, maybe because of some new cloaking technology. But in the last week or so, the Toroyans have come around. They've even won a few skirmishes."

"Maybe they have a new ally who knows how to defend against the cloaks?"

"Maybe." In spite of their need to repair the ship, he continued to sit and think.

"Which brings me back to this fine situation," Borland said. "Do you think the Union laid the mines?"

"I don't think so. It's something pirates would do. Or the Toroyans. I imagine we'll find out soon enough." Chakotay lowered himself into the access, the replacement relays in hand. "I'll see what I can do with the impulse engines. Keep working on subspace communications. With any luck, you should have more power in a few minutes."

As Chakotay crawled back into the work station, he thought back to the previous day when he'd delivered medicine, food, and other essential supplies to the refugees at the Sestwani camp. In spite of their fragile existence in the midst of the war zone, the Sestwani were a happy extended family that welcomed Chakotay's infrequent visits and treated him as an honorary patriarch of their group. Like the orphans and the farm, they reminded him of better days, of a time when he was also a homeless refugee struggling to survive, and he'd adopted them as his own special cause.

But he didn't feel as if he belonged with them, and he suspected he never would. He felt more at home with the Caritas and identified with their mission, but he belonged somewhere else, with other people, in a place and time that was gone forever. The reality of that loss had never been clearer to him than it was after his devastating visit to Draxxon. To have seen B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim and Tuvok was bad enough, but he'd held Kathryn Janeway in his arms, he'd heard her voice, he'd experienced, again, her incredible courage and compassion.

Letting them go again had resulted in a depression so deep that he resorted to the most basic lifestyle and the most supportive environment he could find in the hopes of survival. Only the possibility of seeing Kathryn again had brought him out of his doldrums and given him the strength to face space travel again.

He shifted the access panel aside and carefully installed the power relays, only to discover that there must be more damage that prevented the engines from coming online. He leaned against the wall and pulled out a tricorder to do a further diagnostic on the surrounding area. As he waited for the diagnostic to be complete, he remembered how he'd felt when the news of Kathryn's assignment to the Federation border had reached him.

_Chakotay returned to the farmhouse after sunset, as usual, filthy and tired from another long day of physical labor. Winter had arrived in full force bringing heavy snow and ice that made outdoor work impossible, so he'd spent the day in the workshop. He'd done all that could be done to prepare the farm for winter and was dreading the long days and nights of inactivity that left him alone with his memories and regrets. For the first time since he'd returned to the orphanage, he looked up at the stars with interest. Perhaps it was time to return to the Caritas. _

_Marilas met him at the door, as she always did, helping him out of his dirty work clothes so he could get inside and clean up in the mud room as she put a late supper on the table. He sat down with a groan and picked up the hot tea, cradling the mug in his hands. _

"_The good news is that I finished the last of the work in the barn today," he said to her as he sipped the hot tea. _

"_And the bad news?" she smiled, sitting down across from him to keep him company. _

"_The bad new is that there's no more work to be done until spring." He studied the pasta marinara appreciatively before picking up his fork. "I'm thinking I should return to the Caritas until you need me again." _

_"Maybe so." Marilas watched him finish his meal in silence before she pulled a PADD from her pocket. "This message came today from Riker. I know you don't like to hear from them, but this is something you need to see. Read it while I get your dessert." _

_Chakotay sat back in the chair and activated the message, apprehensive about what he was about to read. After just the first few words, he sat up straight in his chair, his exhaustion replaced by a sudden surge of energy. "Kathryn Janeway is being assigned to the Federation border?" _

"_Apparently so. Something about helping broker a peace between the Union and the Toroyans." She set the nectlar pie in front of him with a huff. "As if peace between those two enemies is possible—they've only been at war for twenty years." _

"_And Ambassador Tydkt is an idiot." Chakotay looked up at her, obviously concerned. "She must have really pissed somebody off to get an assignment like this." _

"_Couldn't she refuse the assignment?" _

"_Not if she wants to stay on active duty." He put down the PADD and toyed with the crust on the pie absently. "I have an idea that this is my fault." _

"_Your fault, Tyee?" Marilas clucked at him. "How is that possible? She's a grown woman, responsible for her own decisions." _

"_I can't imagine that her continuing research into Belle Colony has earned her any friends, and it may have made her some significant enemies." _

"_Explain." _

"_There's a secret organization inside Starfleet that was involved with Belle Colony in some way, and there are rumors that the work done there was highly illegal. They want me dead to close the case forever, and that's why there is a reward for my capture. If she's stumbled onto the truth, Kathryn may have made some truly treacherous enemies." _

"_You mean that her life might be in danger?" _

_Chakotay's eyes widened as the truth of Marilas' statement hit him. How many times in history had troublesome officers been eliminated by putting them in harm's way, sending them into a volatile situation where any number of "accidents" could result in their death? "Of course. That has to be it." _

"_What do you mean?" _

_Chakotay stood up and moved toward the communications console, the dessert forgotten. If Section 31 was half as ruthless as Alita had alleged that they were, time was of the essence. "I need to get back out there before it's too late." _

"_Too late for what?" Marilas asked him as he disappeared around the corner. _

"_Too late to save Kathryn's life." _

The beep of the tricorder brought him back to the task at hand. As he feared, replacing the relays only revealed the rest of the damage. Part of the conduit surrounding the relays was also fused, but at least he had the supplies available in the engineer locker. As he pulled out the conduit and began to measure it, his mind strayed to his recent meeting with the Sestwani, and especially the long talk he had with his former Maquis friend, Alita.

As he'd hoped, she had gathered more recent information on the assassination from her contacts inside the Federation and, he suspected, from inside Starfleet itself. While Starfleet had publicly confirmed that Ambassador Tydkt and several members of his delegation had been killed in the initial explosion, they listed Kathryn as "missing in action, condition unknown," and Chakotay was anxious to learn more specifics about what that enigmatic statement actually meant.

Once the Caritas' supplies had been properly stowed in the camp, Chakotay spent an evening relaxing with her as she took care of her infant twins.

_"The ambassador should never have agreed to a meeting at that location," Alita said as she settled one of the twins at her breast. She smiled indulgently at Chakotay, who was intently studying the face of the second twin cradled in his arms, a blush crawling up his neck. "You can look now, Tyee. Nothing is showing." _

_He raised his head and grinned. "Sorry, but it's been awhile since I've been around a nursing mother." _

_"No problem." She sighed and settled back in her low chair to relax. "The Toroyan station may have been deserted for years, but every pirate, criminal, and scoundrel in three sectors made use of it in the meantime. Rumor has it that the admiral argued vehemently for a better location." _

_"But Tydyk didn't listen to her." _

_"No, he didn't. And neither did Starfleet when she sent them a few dozen requests for guidance and support." _

_"Sounds like the ambassador was worse than I'd heard." _

_She snorted. "He was a know-it-all who refused to listen to anyone who didn't agree with him." _

_"So he took a lone Starfleet vessel to a remote and deserted space station that had been home to every scum-bag in the sector." _

_"Exactly. Janeway wanted to wait for reinforcements, but Tydyk wouldn't give an inch. I even heard he was going to have her relieved when they returned." _

_"Poor Kathryn. After all those years of making her own decisions, she must have gone crazy having to follow the orders of an idiot like that." _

_"I'm surprised she didn't just refuse to go." _

_Chakotay shook his head. "That would mean letting the ship and crew go into danger without being there to help them. She'd never do that." _

_"Yeah. Well, she was able to talk the ambassador into letting her engineer and security chief do an exhaustive sweep of the station when they arrived. My source says they went over the place with a fine-toothed comb." _

_"Not fine enough, obviously." He adjusted the baby's position, putting him on his shoulder and gently patting his back. "So when did the attack occur?" _

_"Not right away. During the opening reception, Janeway and another officer left the room for awhile. Hyperion kept a transporter lock on her and the ambassador, and sensor logs show two humans a few corridors away until just before the explosion occurred." _

_"Why would she leave like that? Was she meeting someone else? Did she notice something peculiar?" _

_"All they know for sure is that there were three alien lifesigns in the same area, but it's impossible to tell whether they were Toroyan, Union, or some other species." _

_Chakotay averted his eyes as Alita shifted the baby to the other breast. He tried to imagine the situation, thinking of reasons why Kathryn would leave her boss at an official function. "They surely don't imagine that she had something to do with setting up the assassination?" _

_"Janeway? No way. But, the explosion occurred before she reentered the room. They think she was probably far enough away to have escaped serious injury in the initial blast." _

_"They 'think' she was?" _

_"Just seconds earlier, the station's shields went up and all communications and sensors were jammed by someone on the station." _

_"That's interesting. Was that done by the Toroyans?" _

_Alita sighed. "This is where things get very confusing. Hyperion was attacked at the same instant by a half dozen cloaked vessels." _

_"What kind of cloak?" Chakotay wondered. "Starfleet ships are pretty good at picking up Romulan and Klingon cloaks and scan for them on a routine basis." _

_"The ships were of an unfamiliar design, and their cloaks were so good that they caught the Hyperion by surprise. The ship's shields were down when the attack began. It was a miracle she survived in one piece." The baby finished nursing, and Alita quickly burped her and then laid her in a crib beside her chair. "You're wondering if the cloaked ships were Unionists, aren't you?" _

_"Everyone says that the Union has been developing a phased cloak for years. Maybe they've finally managed to create a workable design." _

_"But why would the Unionists want to disrupt the meeting? They were the ones who urged Tydyk to meet them personally at the station." _

_Chakotay suddenly felt sick with fear. "Maybe the Unionists wanted to get rid of the Federation leaders and the Toroyans at the same time." _

_"Or maybe it was done by a different group altogether? A covert group with an agenda all its own." She raised an eyebrow. "Like Section 31." _

_Chakotay grew thoughtful, absently rocking the baby that was drifting asleep in his arms. "Maybe they were hoping to downplay the reputation of friendship between the Federation and the Union." And, he thought to himself, maybe they wanted to get rid of Kathryn Janeway and her questions about Belle Colony. _

_"Well, that worked perfectly. There are no longer any diplomatic relations between the Federation and either the Union or the Toroyans." _

_"They're all too busy pointing their fingers at each other." Chakotay smiled down at the peaceful infant and then placed it in the crib beside its brother. "I'm guessing that Hyperion had to retreat as quickly as possible?" _

_"They didn't have time to look for survivors. There was a running battle between the Toroyans and the cloaked ships, and Hyperion seemed to be a target by both sides. Just as they got away, a warp core breach sent the station spinning off out of control." She reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry Chakotay. I wish I could tell you for sure that your friend survived." _

_"Well, at least there's a possibility that she's still alive. I'm grateful for that." _

The first casualty of war is truth, and nothing could prove the adage more accurate than the uncertainty surrounding the suddenly reignited Union/Toroyan war. Everyone knew that the open conflict had erupted at the diplomatic meeting on the Toroyan station and that high level officials had been murdered, but the circumstances surrounding the assassination remained in dispute.

The Union blamed the Toroyans, claiming that they wanted to kill the members of their own leadership that were so cowardly as to seek peace with the Unionists. The Federation blamed the Union, claiming that they had leaked the location of the meeting to some militant faction with the hope that they would take drastic action designed to restart the dormant war. And the Toroyans blamed the Federation for the disaster, claiming that their long-time covert partnership with the Union made them want to put the Toroyans in an indefensible light.

Chakotay replaced the conduit and activated the power grid, relieved to see impulse power come back on line--enough to power sensors and help them find their way to a hiding spot until further repairs could be made.

"Try sensors now, Ray," he called out as he replaced the panel and crawled up through the open hatch.

"I have bad news," Ray replied, his voice betraying his dismay. "We have company."

Chakotay stuck his head through the hatchway only to find himself looking down the barrel of a Toroyan phaser rifle. Behind the alien, he could see that Borland was facing another phaser at the front of the cabin. He raised his hands to show his captor that he was unarmed. "We're not your enemies," he said. "We're here on a mission of mercy."

"You're with the Caritas?" the Toroyan demanded. "This is a Caritas vessel?"

"Yes. My name is Tyee. And that is Ray Borland."

The Toroyan nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Tyee, you say? You're the one we want, then."

"Now wait just a minute . . . ." Borland started to move toward his captor, only to find the phaser pressed firmly against his chest.

"That's enough, Ray," Chakotay interrupted, raising his hand to stop him. He knew what Borland was thinking, that the Toroyans wanted to capture him and collect the Federation reward. Or, worse yet, turn him over the Section 31. "If I come with you quietly, you'll let Ray go unharmed?"

"We'll return him to the Sestwan Camp. He's of no interest to us."

Borland said, "And the ship?"

"The ship will be confiscated because of your trespass in Toroyan space."

"This is non-aligned space and you know it!" Borland argued.

While Chakotay knew the Caritas would sorely miss the ship, at least neither of them would die in the process. It wasn't the best outcome, but the Caritas would the best of it. "It's all right, Ray. If all they want is me and the ship, that's a bargain I'm willing to make."

"No!" Borland shouted as he moved to disarm his captor, only to be stunned by his captor.

The Toroyan stepped back as Borland crashed unconscious to the floor, then he turned to his partner for guidance.

"Tie him to the copilot's seat and prepare to take him back to the camp." As his partner prepared the ship for departure, the Toroyan turned to Chakotay. "You agree to come quietly?"

"Do I have a choice?" Chakotay crawled out of the hatch and gazed longingly at the shelf that held his personal belongings, including his medicine bundle and some precious holograms of his family and Voyager's crew. The Toroyans bound his hands and put chains on his ankles before contacting their ship for transport.

Later, when he was left alone in the Toroyan brig, Chakotay felt the ship's engines come online as they went to warp. Strange to think that the Toroyans had been trying to catch him when they laid the mines along that rarely used space lane. They must have known about his attachment to the Sestwani camp and the "safe" route he would use to reach them.

He considered whether they would they turn him over to the "real" Federation for trial or surrender him to Section 31. Would his face be plastered as a criminal on every computer screen in the quadrant, or would he finally "disappear" without a trace? He lay down on the bunk and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax, reminding himself that whatever happened, it was time to face the music.

He couldn't go on living without some resolution to his lonely and wasted existence. He hadn't imagined how difficult it would be to leave everyone behind, to face a second rebuilding of his life from scratch when, this time, his previous life was still there, his friends still missing him and risking their lives to help him. The true cost of his impulsive decision to escape prosecution and leave Voyager behind had turned out to be too high, and neither the family feeling he experienced at the orphanage nor the altruistic mission of the Caritas was enough to make up the difference.

He'd cheated death too many times in his life to expect to do it again. He'd escaped the consequences of his actions too often. The time had come to face up to his responsibilities and pay for his transgressions.

He would rather die for his crimes or spend the rest of his days in prison than continue his lonely and solitary life.

Whatever they did to him, Chakotay hoped the Toroyans would make that wish come true.

To be continued . . .


	8. Anorha

Dear Reader: It has been awhile since I added a chapter to this story, but I have not forgotten it. I have completed a series of chapters that I will be editing and posting every few days during the next few weeks. My plan is to bring this epic to a close by the end of the month. Thank you for your patience, and please bear with me as I work to bring this very long story to a conclusion. Mizvoy

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: Chakotay, taken captive by the Toroyans, has an opportunity to see inside their reclusive culture andattempts to discover what really happened to Kathryn Janeway, who was caught in the first battle of the war.

Note: This story begins immediately after "The Minefield"

"Anorha" (A story in the Belle Colony universe)

by mizvoy

"Pure superstition." Toroyan Captain Maraqet looked up and frowned at his first officer who was standing in front of his desk. "The idea that it's bad luck to have a female on our ship is just a foolish superstition, Releman. We've experienced nothing but success since Anorha came aboard two weeks ago, and you know it."

"We've had good luck, and we're grateful for her spirit-given insight into scanning for the Union's cloaks," Releman replied, keeping his voice even. "Without her help, we surely would have lost the war days ago. But now that we know how to find the cloaked ships, her usefulness has ended."

"Whether her usefulness has ended or not is for me to decide." Maraqet glared at him. "I still need her advice, and I refuse to do without it just to humor some half-baked thinking."

Releman continued his protest. "The crew mutters because she continues to live among us. They feel certain that she will eventually cause us trouble, and they want to do something about it before it's too late."

"Then, Releman, it's your job to convince them to do nothing." He leaned back in his desk chair and studied his first officer coolly. "They should just forget she's on board. She remains in seclusion in her quarters where no one sees her. I'm the only one who's one tainted by coming into contact with her. I'm the one who should be afraid of retribution should anything happen to her, not the crew."

"Yes, but you're the captain of the ship. You, more than anyone else, must take care that your reputation is not sullied by taking a woman's counsel. Superstition or not, Captain, her presence here and her involvement in the war is a threat to your authority and the ship's security."

Maraqet thought of the tiny Auki cleric and wondered how the crew would react if they knew that she was not only female, but an alien female, as well. And he suspected that she was from a species that might very well bring the crew to mutiny. He narrowed his eyes and stood up, using every ounce of his superior height and command experience to intimidate his first officer and stop the discussion. "Anorha has helped us find the cloaked ships, but the Union vessels have been relentless at adapting to our efforts. I need her continued advice, Releman. She'll remain on the Mystraul until I decide that her usefulness has ended. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear, sir," Releman straightened at his captain's no-nonsense tone of voice. "Your orders?"

"Do whatever is necessary to calm the irrational fears of our crew. You will not speak against Anorha, nor will you tolerate any complaints about her continued presence on Mystraul." He glared at his first officer. "If this situation is too taxing for you, I'm sure I can find a someone from among the crew who would be willing to take your place."

A look of panic crossed Releman's face. They both knew that the third in command, Hestatd, was anxious to advance in rank and would gladly support whatever decision Maraqet made as long as he was given a promotion in the process. "I will follow your orders, sir, and remain loyal to you, no matter what."

"See that you do. Dismissed." Maraqet watched as the man quickly left his office, and then he slumped back into his chair in exhaustion, the tension brought on by the disagreement almost too much to bear. His nerves had been stretched to their limits since the Auki cleric, Anorah, had arrived, and he prayed that she would soon leave them.

Truth was, Maraqet was as uneasy the crew was about the woman's presence on the ship, and he worried that bad luck would soon send them all skittering into a dark afterlife because they dared to face the enemy with a female on board. Who dared to carry a female into battle? Who dared to give affront to the Powers by risking the death or injury of a life-giver in a warship?

He sighed and tried to center his thoughts when a blue light flashed on his comm unit. "What is it?" he asked, even though he knew quite well who it would be.

The voice of the cleric's attendant greeted him. "Anorha wishes an audience with you at once, Captain."

Maraqet shuddered and made the ancient gesture against bad luck. "Tell her I'm on my way."

* * *

"We lost the war the first day." Captain Nistri of the Union vessel, Hidden Dagger, stood at the view port in his quarters staring at the distortions made by the passive cloak currently surrounding the ship. The Dagger had been hiding on the dark side of this remote moon for three days, struggling to repair the phased cloak, and the tension grew steadily stronger as it became apparent that they would fail. Trapped deep inside Toroyan space, the likelihood of their successful escape grew slimmer every moment.

"I don't understand how you can say that we have already lost the war." His first officer, Sreeden, stood across the room. "We failed to win on the first day, as our leaders said we would, but even three weeks later, we continue to fight, and fight well."

"But the die was cast the first day, and nothing in our power can change what will happen. We underestimated the ability of the Starfleet vessel to elude us, and our tactics for using the cloaked vessel were flawed." Nistri turned and sat down heavily behind his desk, gesturing for his first officer to be seated, as well. "Even before the first shot was fired, we were destined to be defeated."

Sreeden shook his head in disbelief. "Explain."

"Do you know what our true goal was at the Toroyan Station?"

"I assume we wanted to wipe out the Toroyan leadership."

"That would make sense, I agree. But our ultimate goal was simply to kill the new Starfleet admiral. That's all. Kill one small human female." Nistri snorted in contempt. "She lived and walked among us unaware for months, and we could have easily killed her with a mismanaged transport, a well-placed drop of poison, a stray phaser beam, even a slip and fall down a long staircase. But, no. We have to tempt fate with untested ships."

"A single human female?" Sreeden was stunned. "And for that, we use all six cloaked ships? We resumed the war just to accomplish the assassination of one person?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it? Our leadership decided to make a statement." Nistri pulled two small glasses and a bottle of wasstadt from his desk, pouring each of them a finger of the clear yellow liquid. "Our friends inside the Federation feared the admiral and wanted her out of circulation for good, and so they asked this one simple task of us."

Sreeden tasted the sweet liquid and smiled as it warmed his throat. "Then your suspicions were correct. If our partners would ask us to do something so clearly immoral, then we were, in fact, dealing with a covert portion of Starfleet."

"No doubt." Nistri downed his shot in a gulp and poured each of them a second. "My brother-in-law lived on Belle Colony all five years. He met only three people from Starfleet and never left the Colony until the evacuation just before the dome was imploded. We suspected something was inconsistent then, but we were unsure until formal diplomatic relations were begun. Ambassador Tydkt, a member of the legitimate Federation council, was completely unaware of the three hundred Union scientists who lived and worked on the Colony for years. He knew nothing of the vessels that the Federation had put under construction at our shipyards."

"So all of our work with the Federation . . . all of it . . . was secret?"

"Not just secret, Sreeden. Illegal. Criminal. Our contacts were afraid that the new admiral would bring the true work of the Colony to light. If she did, heads would roll, some of them quite high in Starfleet." He held the glass of wasstadt to the light in admiration. "What is the saying? 'There are two reasons for doing something: the public reason and the real reason.'"

"I don't understand."

"We thought the Colony was covert because the Federation needed to hide the phased cloak research from their enemies. That would be the public reason because it makes sense. But we were very wrong. The real reason it was covert was because it was illegal." Nistri set down his glass and leaned forward. "If the mainstream of the Federation became aware of the real research done on Belle Colony, those who were responsible would be severely punished."

"And the new admiral had somehow figured it out."

"I believe she had." Nistri smiled with great glee. "I believe she scared them half to death."

"And so, why not ask one's 'partner in crime,' in this case the Union, to eliminate the threat."

"Exactly."

Sreeden nodded, thinking the problem through. "But our leaders decided to take advantage of the situation."

"They did just that, unfortunately." Nistri shook his head as he glanced upward at their ship. "They realized that whoever our partners were in Starfleet, they could not publicly admit that they had funded the building of six vessels with phased cloaks. What could they possibly do if we used the cloaked ships to eliminate our own enemies at the same time we assassinated their admiral? In fact, if we could pull it off, we could keep the ships instead of dutifully turning them over to the Federation. What could they say or do to punish us without bringing trouble on themselves?"

"Brilliant." Sreeden narrowed his eyes. "It is always satisfying to beat a crook at his game."

"Except for one thing, my friend--they could bring pressure to bear privately. In order for us to succeed completely, we had to kill every member of the Federation's delegation on the station and destroy the Starfleet vessel."

"We had to destroy the Hyperion?"

"Ah, Sreeden, think. If we succeeded, the truth about the real aggressor would be our word against the Toroyans'. We could claim that the Toroyans were simply getting rid of bad leadership and that the Federation casualties were incidental. We could laugh at their claims of cloaked ships. But the Hyperion escaped, and now our former covert allies know that we have taken the cloaked ships and used them against them. Now these dangerous people are our sworn enemies."

The first officer took a sudden breath. "You think that they have leaked information on how to detect and destroy our cloaked ships?"

Nistri snorted in derision. "Of course they've had help. Do you think the Toroyans have the technical expertise to figure that out without help? I wouldn't be surprised if our former partners have helped them."

"So it's just a matter of time before we lose the war?" Sreeden thought of his wife and children on the home world, of his dreams of glory and promotion, all lost. He found himself repeating the words aloud. "The war is lost."

"It's over. We can't allow this ship to fall in the Toroyans' hands. If we are unable to repair the cloak and escape, we must take as many of our enemies with us in a blaze of glory." Nistri poured his friend another glass of wasstadt and held up his own in a toast. "Here's to the Hidden Dagger. There's no better ship in the quadrant."

"To the Dagger," Sreeden agreed, but there was a note of despondency in his voice.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Chakotay asked each time one of his captors brought a meal to the ship's tiny brig, and each time the jailer handed him his tray without a word.

He had expected to be turned over to the Federation immediately after his capture, yet each new day arrived to find him still waiting, shivering in the incredibly cold temperatures that the hot-blooded Toroyans found comfortable. He was unharmed, though, and had yet to be questioned about his past life. He began to wonder whether he'd been captured for the price on his head or for some other more obscure reason that would eventually be revealed.

When he did get someone to talk about his destination, his translator interpreted their words as paying a "debt" instead of collecting a "bounty," but he guessed that the confusion might be a minor distinction could be explained away as a simple semantic glitch.

Two days passed before they arrived at what was called the "home fleet." Chakotay was transferred to a larger vessel that reminded him of Voyager and was given private quarters with a tiny cot and desk, a food replicator, and a private bath. Even better, he was able to adjust the temperature of the room to something closer to normal and to stop wearing three layers of clothes to keep warm.

He could also move freely through the public areas of the ship as long as he had an armed guard beside him, which made him feel more like a guest than a prisoner or a hostage. He finally decided that he hadn't been for the bounty that was on his head and that the Toroyans had no idea about his real identity. He was unable to think of a way to broach the subject without losing his cover in the process.

On the second night of his stay on the new ship, the captain, Vitaris, invited him to join him for a meal in his private mess, and the two of them talked about a wide range of issues. Chakotay missed the first contact protocols he'd used so often in the Delta Quadrant and soon came to like the alien captain. Because the war was an on-going problem, their talk soon turned to the battles with the Union's cloaked ships.

"I'd heard that the Toroyan fleet was in shambles. Some people say that you're days away from defeat," Chakotay nodded toward the impressive array of ships visible in the window, "and yet this ship and the others I've seen since my arrival are in perfect condition."

"The Union wants everyone to think that they're about to prevail, Tyee," Captain Vitaris replied with a chuckle. "They pose as the victor to curry favor with our neighbors."

"And you let them get away with it?"

Vitaris shrugged. "Our goal has always been to survive the conflict with the Union, not attract the admiration of other species. Until this latest outbreak, we have held our own for over twenty years. It's only the treachery of these cloaks that has brought the Union good fortune this time."

"Were you there at the attack on the space station?" Chakotay asked him, hoping that his eye witness account might dispute some of the troubling gossip he'd heard. "Did you see the cloaked ships the first time they appeared?"

"I was there," Vitaris replied, his face clouding with anger. "We're used to the Union's stationary cloaks, but these cloaks were a giant leap forward in their technology. They passed through our defenses undetected, only to appear beside a ship with phasers firing. "

"I've been a soldier in my day," Chakotay continued, trying not to look too excited about hearing a first-hand account. "I've heard many rumors about that battle and would like to know what really happened."

"I see no reason not to tell you," the captain said with a heavy sigh. "We did nothing more dishonorable than trust a proven foe."

"Foe? You consider the Federation your enemy?"

"I was speaking of the Union, Tyee, although, at the time, we thought the Federation was their ally, and for good reason."

"You thought they were allies?"

"I think they were, in some ways. Do you think the Union made such incredible strides in cloaking technology without help?" Vitaris shook his head in disbelief. "They're incapable of such great improvements on their own. They worked with Federation scientists in perfecting the phased cloaks and then built the six prototypes that attacked us at the Station. There is no other explanation."

Chakotay stared at him, afraid to protest that cloaking technology was illegal in Federation space because it might blow his disguise. Even so, he wouldn't have been surprised to hear that research into the cloaks had continued. He remembered the scandal of the U.S.S. Pegasus during his last years in Starfleet, and there had been the secret laboratory at Belle Colony with suspicious emissions that created a stir in Cardassia, emissions that might have been caused by phased cloak tests.

He could hear the argument that had probably been waged about the research in Starfleet's inner chambers. Was it wrong to look into a potentially dangerous technology as long as it is never put to active use? How else could Starfleet prepare to defend the Federation against potential weapons, including new cloaks, except by figuring out how they work? And, what better group to do that kind of study but a secret one dedicated to "Section 31" of the charter?

"I admit," Chakotay finally answered, "that what you say makes sense. Perhaps the Federation let the Union do the 'dirty work' on these cloaks so that they could avoid having to answer for doing prohibited research themselves." He gave the captain a questioning look. "I'm surprised that your leaders agreed to meet with the Federation delegation when they had such suspicions about their partnership with the Union."

"Everyone was surprise, Tyee, but what choice did they have? Our leaders were desperate to confirm or refute the possibility, and the new military attaché was very convincing, so they say. If she hadn't died in the explosion, they would have blamed her for her betrayal."

"Military attaché?" Chakotay could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Are you talking about Admiral Janeway?"

"You've heard of her, then?" He waited, but Chakotay only nodded, unable to trust his voice. "I'm not surprised, for she was apparently very famous in the Federation. Although I never met her, from what I've heard, she was a breath of fresh air compared to the ambassador. Toroyans don't usually listen to females when it comes to diplomacy and war, yet she was able to gain our trust by listening to our complaints about the Union's secret partnership with the Federation."

A chill went down Chakotay's spine, for he realized that Kathryn's willingness to listen had probably brought on the attack. "Was that the subject of the meeting at the station? Was the Federation there to hear an official complaint about this alleged affiliation?"

"More or less."

Chakotay stood up to refill his mug from the urn on the counter, turning his back to hide from the captain the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The attack on the station would be an elegant solution for Section 31, ridding them of Kathryn Janeway, who had proven to be a thorn in their side, and simultaneously assassinating the Toroyan military's leaders, who were about to disclose the secret of Belle Colony. His heart was breaking to think that all of his efforts to protect Kathryn from the fallout of his "crime" had failed so miserably.

He resumed his seat with a sigh, forcing himself to concentrate on what Vitaris could tell him. "So the Union did attack the station? And they used the ships even though it meant that everyone learned of the existence of the phased cloaks?"

"Cloaking devices are only illegal in the Federation, Tyee. And they haven't admitted who it was that helped them to build the ships." Vitaris sighed. "They obviously believed that the cloaked ships would shift the balance of war in their favor and quickly defeat us."

"But they haven't." Chakotay grew curious. "You've adapted quickly and turned things around."

"We've had divine help in that, help that proves our worthiness." Vitaris looked at him steadily, waiting for a reaction to this extraordinary claim.

"Divine help?" Chakotay managed to keep his jaw from dropping. He was hardly one to discount the power of spiritualism and mysticism in life, but he seriously doubted that meditation could lead to a solution to a newly developed shields. "In what way?"

Vitaris grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Let me guess. Everything you know about our culture has been filtered through the Union's eyes, right?"

"Probably so. Toroyan culture isn't very friendly to outsiders, after all. Perhaps you can enlighten me."

"You've heard that we are technologically backward?" He waited for Chakotay to nod in agreement before he continued. "Completely untrue. In our culture, science and religion have co-existed side-by-side throughout history. We believe that all knowledge flows from the spirit that breaths life into the universe. And so, our schools of higher learning are also religious institutions."

"And so all scientific breakthroughs are miracles, gifts from the spirit, or divinely inspired." He spent a moment thinking about how most advanced cultures looked down on those that remained faithful to their spiritual beliefs and chastised himself for falling into that trap.

"We believe all knowledge and all good things flow from the spirit, and so our religious societies host our institutions of higher learning as well." He leaned back in his chair, obviously tiring. "While I admit that our culture is not very welcoming to other species, our schools are quite different. We have many important scientists from all over the quadrant living with us and doing research."

"Really? Even from the Federation?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. They're reclusive. True scientists. Desperate to do pure research without worrying about how it will be applied once they've perfected it."

Chakotay realized that the combination of science and religion intrigued him. "I'd like to read up on your culture, if that's allowed."

"I see no reason not to enlighten you."

When he returned to his quarters, Chakotay found that he'd been given access to the ship's data base. He spent hours pouring over studies of the Toroyan culture before he discovered that he could also access news programs, including detailed descriptions of the war and the opening attack on the deserted station.

Fascinated, he learned that the Union ships had de-cloaked immediately after the station exploded and had immediately focused their weapons on the Starfleet ship Hyperion rather than the Toroyan vessels. The Hyperion had managed to escape the ships in a long, drawn-out battle that made Chakotay want to meet Captain Schuler in person and shake his hand. However, the pictures of the station that slowly disintegrated in a death-spiral toward the surface of the planet it orbited were too difficult to watch. The Federation's delegation had been on that station, and clearly listed among the dead was Admiral Kathryn Janeway.

Chakotay stared at her name until guilt threatened to choke him, and then he shut down the computer and stumbled to the bunk where he collapsed and stared up into darkness, tears streaming across his temples and into his ears. Except for the minimal light from the replicator controls and the occasional whirr of the computer, the room was as quiet, dark, and cold as a tomb. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more miserable or depressed. When he looked back at his life, he could see that every effort he'd ever made to exert some kind of control over his life resulted in disaster and calamity, and every effort to protect the people he cared about most had been completely futile.

If only Kathryn had let him go the way the others had. His escape had kept everyone else on Voyager from suffering, but his former captain had always had an unwavering sense of loyalty to her crew. Even when they made mistakes and deserved to pay the consequences, she did all she could to help them. She'd gone after any of them who had tried to leave the ship, determined to keep them together until her mission was complete, and she'd come after him, as well, more than once. He should have expected it. He should never have sneaked into her apartment that night to tell her goodbye, and he should never have told her about his entanglement with the Belle Colony incident.

He rolled over and buried his head in his arms, his tears soaking into the sleeves of his shirt. No more lies. No more self-deception.

He'd gone to her that night because he loved her and didn't want to leave her. He'd gone because he owed her too much, for giving him a second chance and for believing in him when logic demanded otherwise. He'd told her about Belle Colony because he'd hoped she'd work a miracle and find a way to bring him home. He'd told her because he needed to hear her say that she still believed in him, that he could never have murdered so many people.

He'd known perfectly well how she'd react to the situation, that she would never give up on exonerating him, but he'd underestimated the ruthlessness of those who were trying to get rid of him. He'd never dreamed that her devotion to him would result in her death.

Chakotay was convinced that her blood was on his hands.

to be continued


	9. Phoenix

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: The details of the war become clear as Anorha helps bring about a return to impasse between the Union and the Toroyans.

Note: This story begins immediately after "Anorha"

Phoenix (a story in the Belle Colony universe)

by mizvoy

Maraqet made his way slowly through the Toroyan ship, pausing to interact with the crew and assess their morale for himself. They showed evidence of strain, but that was to be expected in the middle of a war. There had been frenetic activity in the last two battles with the Union, battles that had resulted in the destruction of three of the Union's six cloaked ships. Nothing lessens the impact of superstition faster than the sweet taste of success, he told himself; even his own doubts had been dispelled by the crucial role Anorha had played in their victories.

Frankly, he'd been as upset as the rest of Mystraul's crew had been when the ship was recalled to the home fleet just days after the war resumed. The first few battles had ended in disastrous failure, with one retreat after another. The cloaked ships appeared in the midst of the Toroyan fleet, weakened their defenses, and then disappeared as their Union compatriots swooped in for the easy kill. Maraqet had the same "never say die" attitude of most Tororyans and wanted to continue to fight to the last ship. He was afraid Mystraul's recall was the first sign of surrender or his removal from command.

Much to his surprise, Mystraul had been met by the yacht used by the commander-in-chief. They took up a position nearby so that he could attend a private meeting with the admiral himself. They exchanged the usual pleasantries and discussed the miserable progress of the war in great detail, when the admiral sat back to study Maraqet intently. "In your opinion, Captain, we're going to lose this war. Am I correct?"

"We haven't come up with a way to solve this new phased cloak, sir, but we're working on it. Until we do, I'm afraid we won't have much success."

"I agree. Our own scientists have made very little progress in the area, to tell the truth." He sighed and leaned toward Maraqet, lowering his voice. "Extraordinary times require drastic solutions. Don't you agree?"

Maraqet steeled himself for what he knew was coming--a special assignment, no doubt, and perhaps a noble sacrifice. "Are you suggesting suicide missions, sir? I must say they've occurred to me."

"No, Maraqet, nothing that desperate. But I need a captain with an open mind. I think you and your ship are best suited for this assignment."

"I live to serve, sir."

The admiral smiled. "Two members of our engineer team survived the initial battle at the space station. They recovered important information on these damned phased shields in the process."

"There were survivors?"

"A few. They've since died from radiation poisoning." He shrugged his shoulders in dismay. "The information they found was taken to the nearest Auki research center for closer study. One of the clerics, a master in shielding and sensors, has some ideas we want to implement. I want her to accompany you back to the war zone. She will provide both technical and tactical advice to you and the rest of the fleet."

"A female?" Maraqet nearly panicked. "My crew will never take a life giver into a battle."

"Yes, Captain, they will." His eyes were cold. "Her name is Anorha, and she will remain in seclusion on your ship with her attendants, available only to you and only when she wishes to see you. She is aged and unwell, but is also resolved to help us regain the balance of power we enjoyed before these Utav dogs began their cowardly attack on our ships by hiding behind these cowardly shields."

Maraqet's protests had fallen on deaf ears, and for the last two weeks, he'd had Anorha with him like a parrot on his shoulder, whispering advice into his ear at just the right moments. At least, he smiled to himself, she was willing to let him take credit for the success they'd enjoyed since her arrival.

* * *

He arrived at Anorha's quarters, three small rooms which were in the most remote and safest portion of the ship. They had been, at one point, a scientific lab filled with computers and research devices and contained few, if any, comforts of home--a rudimentary bath, two small cots, and a food replicator. Anorha seemed content to live like a lab rat amidst her research tools, and Maraqet was glad to leave her hidden in the bowels of the ship.

When the attendant Petran allowed him into their quarters, he immediately wished he'd left his tunic behind, for the temperature was stiflingly hot and humid compared to the rest of the ship. He wondered, again, if Anorha's illness required this unusual environment or if she was from an alien species, as many Auki were. In less than a minute, beads of sweat appeared on his upper lip and a red flush discolored his face, and he was surprised to see that the attendant was as uncomfortable as Maraqet was, even though he wore the lightweight clerical robes of deep summer.

"Please take a seat," Petran said as he disappeared into the next room.

Maraqet perched on a lab stool and waited the arrival of Anorha with a rising sense of trepidation. He had met with her in person only twice before, and both times their meeting had resulted in a battle with cloaked ships that had been so close to Mystraul that he later realized the were about to attack him first. The battles had been extremely tense and had nearly overwhelmed his skills as a leader and a strategist. Without the advice sent to him secretly from these chambers, he was sure that his small fleet would have been defeated just as all the others had been before him. Instead, three cloaked ships had been destroyed, and two had tucked tail for Union space.

His heart began to pound when he realized that another battle was imminent. Anorha must have found a way to discover the third and last ship; there was no other reason she would require his presence.

When Anorha entered the room a few minutes later, he could hardly believe his eyes. He hadn't seen her in nearly a week, since the last battle ended, yet she seemed to have shrunken to half her size. He peered past her into the inner chamber, hoping to catch a glimpse of the second cleric whom he had never seen. This second female served Anorha privately, he assumed. He shuddered to think how his crew would react if they found out that a second life giver was on board and hoped that the three clerics would leave before that particular fact became public knowledge.

Anorha was swallowed up in the heavy winter robes of the Auki order, and she leaned heavily on Petran's arm as he loomed over her protectively. She walked slowly across the room before Petran carefully lowered her onto a stool, and Maraqet found himself gazing down at the top of her cloaked head.

"Anorha!" he exclaimed, even as the attendant shook her head to warn him not to over-react to her deteriorated condition. "Are you unwell?"

"I am still among the living," she replied, her whispered voice distorted, as always, by the breathing device that covered her mouth and nose, "but you knew, when I boarded the ship, sir, that my days were numbered. Petran and Klyn have proven to be an excellent medic and nurse, as you can see. I am blessed by the dedication of my attendants."

He nodded, repressing his curiosity about the unseen Klyn, and then said, "You requested my presence."

"Yes." She pulled the robes around her as if she were freezing. "I know this delay has frustrated you, but it has given me time to study the most recent telemetry with greater care." She'd brought the ship to a sudden dead stop two days earlier, and he'd been frantic to know why.

"I do your bidding willingly, sister. What have you discovered?"

Petran extended a PADD to him as the cleric explained, "The trail was changing, and I feared that this captain might deactivate the cloak to effect repairs. We tracked the other ships by picking up the chroniton particles released by their interphasic generators. I suspect that this generator was malfunctioning and that he was forced to find cover in order to make extensive repairs."

Maraqet nodded as he studied the PADD. "You want me to scan for this particle, instead?"

"Yes. Once you see the vector they took, send me the charts of that area of space. Together, we must decide the most likely planet for them to hide upon as they work on the phased cloak."

"They would most likely hide behind their more reliable static cloak. But we have been able to scan for that for years." He felt a rise of excitement. This was what the two them had been hoping for. "You want to take the ship intact."

She nodded. "That's been our goal from the first, hasn't it? To capture a phased cloak so that we can prove that the Union was helped by the Federation?"

"I never doubted that you would do it, Anorha." He stood up, anxious to return to the bridge. "I will send you the vector as soon as I have it."

"Good. And then, together, we will decide how best to capture our prey," she agreed, her voice fading as she struggled to speak. "The sooner the better."

He took his leave and headed for deck one without further ado. In his mind's eye, he could see Anorha as she'd perched upon the low stool, looking very much the size of a small child as she wasted away from her illness. She had been weak when he'd first met her, but now she was obviously near death. Petran and Klyn, he realized, must be much more than simple attendants, perhaps even doctor and nurse. He imagined that their skills were what had kept Anorha alive until this mission was accomplished. Maraqet knew that the cleric was responsible for their recent success against the Union and wanted very much for her to enjoy the victory with him.

The lift stopped and he burst onto the bridge. "We need to modify our sensors," he barked as he strode toward the operations officer's console, looking up at his bridge crew with a wide smile. "The hunt draws to its close, at last."

* * *

"Nuwonga," Chakotay murmured to himself, remembering his people's term for the period of mourning after great loss. "My life is nothing now but a recollection of what once was and a vision of what might have been."

He wanted to believe that Janeway was alive, but the Toroyans had left little doubt of her demise. Following their search of the disintegrating station, they had made a show of returning the commbadges and rank bars of the diplomatic team whose bodies had been found amidst the wreckage, the bodies buried with honor at a religious shrine in the region. He had seen the admiral's bars and the commbadge clearly marked with her service number; it was doubtful that the Toroyans could have falsified something so randomly personal.

This gesture had been received with gratitude by the Federation, and Chakotay wondered if diplomatic relations couldn't be far behind. Janeway would be glad to know that her death hadn't been in vain. If she had failed to exonerate him, at least she had stricken a blow against Section 31 and its illegal phased cloak research.

He'd come to appreciate the cold of the Toroyan ship, even though he continued to wear arctic weight gear even in the privacy of his own quarters. Through the narrow slit of a view port, he could see the unfamiliar stars streaking by as the ship made its way toward an unknown location. He had no idea where they were headed, whether toward the Federation or away from it, and he didn't care. What good did it do to try to take control of one's life when fate would have its way no matter what? Better to relax, he told himself as he stretched out on his bunk, and let the winds of providence take you where they will.

A soft rap awakened him from a troubled sleep sometime later. He opened the door to find himself looking into the worried eyes of Captain Vitaris.

"Tyee, I've been concerned about you. No one has seen you since our talk the other day, and I am afraid I said something to distress you."

Chakotay gave him a feeble smile. "I'm fine, as you can see."

"As far as I can see, you are." He agreed, but Chakotay sensed his hesitation. "My superiors will be unhappy if anything should happen to you."

"Come in." Chakotay stepped aside and brought the lights to normal illumination. "You'll see that I'm both healthy and sane."

The two men sat down in the tiny quarters, Chakotay on the edge of his bunk and Vitaris on the single chair that served both the desk and the dining area.

"I see that we're heading somewhere," Chakotay said with a nod toward the view port.

"Yes. Your time with us is short, I believe."

"And where, I wonder, will I be going?"

Vitaris shrugged. "All I have are some coordinates on the star chart, or I'd tell you. I know it must be hard to wonder what is going to happen. For what it's worth, I hope it's nothing to worry about."

"Thanks. I just can't imagine why the Toroyans would kidnap me. I'm surprised they even know who I am."

"You underestimate the fame of the Caritas, my friend. Generosity and kindness are rare in these days and times, especially in the midst of an interminable war. You and your people are heroes to many of us who are tired of fighting and hungry for peace."

"Perhaps." Chakotay felt his face warm with a blush. He realized that while Section 31 might consider him an enemy, he was also a hero to those he was helping. "But I'm not welcome everywhere."

"I understand, Tyee. I'm not surprised that you and the others of the Caritas are fugitives from your past, but that's of no concern to us. I assure you that you will not be turned over for a legal issue. You must have friends in high places."

"Not that I know of, and certainly not in your government. Who would specifically ask for me from all of the Caritas members?"

"All I can tell you is that the request came from the highest ranks in our government. All will come clear in the passage of time." He shifted on the chair and leaned forward, his face bright with excitement. "You've heard the sound of celebrations on the ship?"

Chakotay nodded. "I imagined that you've scored another victory against the cloaked ships."

"More than a victory, Tyee. We've captured one of them."

Chakotay's eyes widened in surprise. "In one piece?"

"From what I've heard, the cloak is fully functional, although in need of repair. The Utav never thought the war would last this long, and the cloaks have begun to malfunction because of the extended periods of use. Apparently, this ship had landed on a remote moon to effect repairs and was hiding behind a passive cloak. The spirits revealed everything us through a female cleric, Tyee! A female! And she led Mystraul and the rest of the fleet to it like a newborn restic pup finds its mother. Now we can study the cloak ourselves, Tyee, and because they fear that we can use their own cloak against them, the Union will sue for peace."

"A female cleric?"

"The spirit chooses the proper instrument for his purposes," Vitaris nodded. "Your culture allows the life givers to participate in all facets of life, correct?"

"Yes, we do. But there was a time in our past when females didn't have the same rights or responsibilities as the males."

"And you work beside females in the Caritas?"

"I've worked with women all my life, Vitaris. I've even worked for them." He paused, pushing back the sorrow that the thought of Kathryn brought him. "The Federation is quite fair about such things. For example, Admiral Janeway was a female, and she was an important part of the Ambassador's delegation."

"She was, indeed. I believe our leaders trusted her, or they would never have chanced the meeting with the Federation ambassador." He paused, studying his hands. "Perhaps the day has come for our people to rethink our treatment of the life givers. The role this cleric has played will resonate throughout our culture." He looked up at Chakotay. "Have you heard that we've renamed the captured ship in her honor--the Anorha."

"Anorha?" Chakotay frowned as he pondered the name. "That word has meaning in your language, doesn't it?"

"It means 'risen from the ashes' and is the name of a great bird of mythology."

"Yes, I remember seeing it when I studied your society. On my home planet, we have a similar myth, but the name of the bird is Phoenix."

"Truly? I would like to read that myth someday."

"Perhaps we can remain friends, Vitaris, and continue to talk about these things. I would like that."

"As would I."

Chakotay smiled, grateful to know that he'd made a friend among this reclusive species. "How was the Mystraul able to capture the ship? Do you have an account of the battle?"

"The story has not yet been told. But, I am friends with the Mystraul's captain, Maraqet. I will ask him to send me his account of the battle and share it with you."

Their talk was interrupted by another shout of celebration from among the crew. "There must be more good news, Vitaris. It sounds like the revelry has escalated."

The captain grinned. "I should join them, if only to make sure the ship survives." He stood up and clapped his hand on his hostage's shoulder. "I have enjoyed getting to know you, Tyee. Perhaps you humans are not all bad."

"I was thinking the same thing about you Toroyans," Chakotay replied, an apologetic look on his face.

Later that night, while eating his evening meal, Chakotay heard the soft chirp an incoming message on his communications system and turned to activate it. He found there a portion of a message from Maraqet to Vitaris that described the battle that resulted in the capture of the cloaked ship. Shifting his plate to the space in front of the view screen, Chakotay began to read the story as he finished his meal.

_Vitaris, my friend, it will be told that I was a genius for solving the mystery of following the cloaks and plotting to surprise and capture the Hooded Snake (the name of the cloaked ship we captured), but the truth is that the Auki cleric, Anorha, is responsible for it all. She alone interpreted the information that was salvaged from the space station and provided every single scanning and tactical modification that led to our success. _

_Even so, Anorha is unwilling to take credit for all that we accomplished. She claims that it is only right to "balance the scales" and to help stop the Ulav aggression by sharing her spirit-given knowledge and abilities. She doesn't mind if I profit from her guidance, for she says that my willingness to listen to and follow the advice of a female earned me the right to whatever benefits I gain. She's an amazing person, Vitaris, and when we meet, I'll tell you more about her. In the meantime, since you've asked for the details, let me tell you the story. _

_As you know, we had successfully tracked and engaged in battle with three cloaked ships, each time managing to destroy them before they could escape from our grasp. Each time, we learned a little bit more about the ships, for example, what kind of power drain the cloaks made upon the ship, what kind of delay there was between the dropping of the cloak and the activation of shields, whether there were emissions that we could use to track them more accurately. All of this data was analyzed by Anorha in the privacy of her quarters and shared with me through my console or short, private briefings. During the battles themselves, Anorha suggested tactics to me through an earpiece that I wore on the bridge. From her quarters, she watched the battle unfold, and she often anticipated the response of our enemy with uncanny foresight and skill. _

_Soon after the third ship was destroyed, Anorha discovered that the cloak on one ship was malfunctioning and would need to be repaired or risk a complete loss of the cloak's effectiveness. As if to prove her right, the two Union ships closest to Utav territory lost their cloaks and managed to escape from our fleet by the narrowest of margins. That left one of the six cloaked vessels still in Toroyan territory, and Anorha was determined to capture it intact. _

_By scanning for this anomaly, we were able to follow the Hooded Snake to the surface of a moon in the El Traje system where it was hidden beneath a passive cloak, secure, no doubt, in its safety. Truly, Vitaris, I don't think we could have captured it in one piece without Anorha's advice. She had us position three ships just beyond the range of the Union ship's sensors, and then she had me place Mystraul behind our own passive cloak and let the moon's rotation bring the enemy ship above the horizon. Before they could detect our presence, we transported an advance team to the edge of the Hooded Snake's passive cloak where they were able to render the cloak ineffective. _

_As soon as the cloak dropped, catching the Utav completely by surprise, our other three ships emerged from behind the moon and targeted their weapons with phasers and the advance team boarded their ship. They took control of the bridge and captured the captain before anyone could destroy the phased cloak or implement the self-destruct program. It was all over in a matter of ten minutes, Vitaris. And even better, there wasn't a single casualty. _

Chakotay finished the account and stared blindly at the view screen, trying to imagine how a woman who was a secluded cleric could operate as a flag officer of a fleet of vessels without prior experience. The simplicity and efficiency of the attack on the cloaked ship was too sophisticated for someone who was inexperienced in tactics.

Just exactly who was this Anorha? He called up the computer's memory file on the Auki sect and refreshed his memory on their purpose and objectives. While they were a religious community that lived in seclusion, they specialized in the study and development of high-tech devices and equipment in all phases of Toroyan life, which would logically include something like a phased cloak and even military weaponry. The Auki sect was also the only one that allowed alien and female scientists to join their ranks.

He realized that Anorha, who had almost single-handedly lifted the Toroyan fleet out of the ashes, must have come from an alien culture that was used to having females in their military. He thought it would be interesting to meet this Anorha and see for himself just what species she was. As this Maraqet had described her, she was simply too good to be true.

* * *

Following the capture of the Hooded Snake, Mystraul's crew celebrated for a couple of days as Maraqet, first officer Sreeden, and most of the Toroyan engineers spent hours examining the new ship design and the phased cloak in order to take the captured ship back to their home system safely. The Utavi crew had been taken from the ship and were, in any event, unwilling to help the enemies learn how to fly the ship or use its technology. The Toroyans soon found that a whole set of essential operating files had been carefully encrypted in order to prevent them from using the ship.

"So much for taking the ship into orbit and proudly decloaking for all to see," Sreeden sighed as he rubbed his aching head. "I've looked at this code for so long my eyes are crossed."

"Mine, too." Maraqet slumped in the captain's chair on the Union ship's bridge, too tired to think. It was midnight and only the two senior officers remained awake. "The latest suggestion from the admiralty was to tractor it back home and let the big boys work on it. I'm thinking that this is a puzzle worthy of a think tank."

Sreeden lifted his head as an idea occurred to him. "What about Anorha? Maybe she has some insight into this encryption that we can use?"

"Anorha?" Maraqet felt his heart lurch slightly. "You know that she's already gone, didn't you?"

"Gone?" Sreeden, who had spent every waking minute on the Union ship, realized that he had missed some critical developments. "She's not dead?"

"I'm afraid so. You remember when we beamed the prisoners off of this ship? We beamed the medic to the Mystraul so that he could treat Anorha. We were hoping he could do something to prolong her life, but it was too late."

"Why would she want the medic from this ship? Why not just use our doctor?"

"I never told you very much about our passenger, did I?" Maraqet groaned slightly as he straightened in the chair. "You were worried enough about the fact that she was a female. I didn't want to make things worse."

"You mean that she was an alien?" Sreeden smiled at the surprised look on his captain's face. "Everyone knows the Auki sect is a magnet for alien scientists who want to find the freedom to focus on their work. And when I saw the settings for environmental control for Anorha's quarters, I knew she couldn't be Toroyan."

"Very observant." Maraqet chuckled. "But did you think she might be Utavi?"

"You're kidding! She was a traitor to her people?"

"I'm sure she didn't see things quite that way. She worked on the development of the phased shields, almost from the beginning, but she thought they would be used for constructive, peaceful purposes, not for warships."

"You mean for accessing uninhabitable areas? Like engine rooms flooded with radiation? Underwater mines? Stuff like that?"

Maraqet nodded. "Like most pure scientists, she was obsessed with finding the answers to theoretical questions and didn't worry about what others might want to do with the end product. When she realized that her military planned on using the cloaks so that ships could sneak past their enemy's perimeters, she was very upset. She didn't believe that the Utavi should expand their territory by force, and especially not with such devious technology. So, several years ago, she left the Union and joined the Auki sect where she could continue to work on her research in peace."

"Amazing." Sreeden walked to the nearest console and ran his fingers over the smooth surface as he thought about their unexpected ally. "Her research helped us find and destroy her own people's ships. I wonder if we could have used her research to develop the shields, too?"

"You know that the Auki clerics retain the rights to the technology they develop and delineate how they can or cannot be used. She refused to let our military have the cloaking devices, but she was aware of the Union's study of them and was willing to help us defend ourselves against them."

Sreeden's head snapped up in surprise. "But, you said she left the Union years ago, long before the ships were built. How could she know exactly how the cloaks were configured?"

The captain leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I believe that our people acquired the necessary information from the first battle, and not just from their ship's sensors during the battle. The Starfleet admiral who was going to talk to our leaders about these shields had data with her that we found in the wreckage." He grinned at Sreeden's look of disbelief. "At least, that's what the fleet admiral led me to believe."

"I doubt that very much, sir. If the Federation was in on the research, why would they suddenly share it with their ally's enemy? The Starfleet people couldn't have known that those cloaked ships were following them into our space."

"You have a point, Sreeden, but, unfortunately, we'll probably never know the truth." Maraqet sighed. "But, whatever started this war, Anorha was a good ally, in the end. Did you hear that they plan to this ship the Anorha in her honor?"

"It's only fitting." He leaned against the console and said, "And Anorha? What will become of her body?"

"She was taken back to the home world with the first shipload of prisoners. She's to be buried at the Auki institute where she lived and studied the last years of her life."

"Thank the spirit that she lived long enough to be of help to us."

"I think she fought death valiantly with just that in mind, Sreeden. I think that once she knew her work was done, she went to the spirit in relief. She was a frail, wasted specimen, let me tell you. I have never liked the look of an Utavi, but her disease had truly ruined her body." His mind traveled back to his last visit with Anorha.

_Maraqet had seen death before, but always a swift and violent ending, not the long descent brought on by terminal illness. He'd been caught up in the task of replacing the Hooded Snake's crew with his own men and securing his prisoners in his own ships when Petran, requested that the Utavi medic be allowed to examine the cleric. He'd approved it without a second thought, until, an hour or so later, he was summoned to her quarters for the last time. _

_He was escorted into her private chamber where Anorha lay on her bunk motionless and pale in spite of the stifling heat, the wrenching smell of death hanging in the air. He'd stared at her alien body as the Utavi doctor explained that her death was imminent and that there was nothing anyone could do to prolong her life. The captain briefly wondered whether he should trust the man's prognosis, since the Utavi was obviously disgusted by this traitor who had brought his people to defeat. But a second glance at the body convinced him that Anorha's life was coming to an end. _

_Once the doctor was escorted from the room, Maraqet stepped closer to the bed. It was the first time he'd actually seen the face of the female who had brought them victory, and he found that the usual hatred he felt for the species that had been his lifelong enemy threatened to boil to the surface. _

_"What were her wishes?" he asked Petran, tearing his eyes from the dying woman's face. In spite of all he and his people owed her, he could not bear to look at Anorha again. _

_"She wished to be buried among the Auki sect that welcomed her," Petran replied. "If you would request that a diplomatic shuttle be dispatched to carry her remains?" _

_"Consider it done." Before he left, Maraqet scanned the room carefully, looking for the personal attendant, Klyn, who had been even more of a recluse than the cleric herself. He saw a small shape, cloaked in Auki robes, in the deep shadows of the room, but she was clearly unwilling to step forward and meet him. He moved toward the door. "We owe Anorha, and all of you, a debt of gratitude." _

_"She believed in a higher moral standard than patriotism," Petran declared as he left. "In time, I hope even her own people will accept what she as done as the wisest course of action." _

_"It will take time, Petran, for that to happen, if it ever does." He was mindful of the hatred he had experienced at the sight of her Utavi features, wishing that he could simply will the feeling away. "I wish it were as easy to stop hating as it is to begin." His comment elicited an audible gasp from Klyn, and he turned to gaze at her in surprise, seeing only white skin and the flash of blue eyes. Another alien. "I'll inform you when your transportation arrives." _

Maraqet shivered at the gruesome memory and glanced, once again, at the puzzling encryption that prevented him from flying the Hooded Snake. "Even if Anorha were still alive, my friend, I'm not sure that breaking encryptions was one of her strengths."

Sreeden watched him study the first of the dozen or so codes that kept them from flying the ship, and then he voiced a question he'd been holding inside for weeks. "Sir, I realize that Anorha had studied cloaks for years, but didn't she also advise you on tactics? If she had also had a military mind, wouldn't she have realized the dramatic implications a phased cloak would have if used on warships?"

The captain was silent a long time, toying with the encryption as he pondered his first officer's question. Finally he looked up and shook his head. "I don't know the answer to that question, and I wish I did. The voice that advised me during the battles was much stronger than the one I heard when I saw Anorha in person, but I'd always attributed that to the microphone she used. Now, I wonder."

"A mystery."

"Yes. Another mystery we'll probably never solve," Maraqet stated flatly as he shut down the console and stood up to stretch his aching back. "For tonight, we've had mysteries enough to ponder with this damned code. Let's get a good night's sleep and start fresh in the morning. I would love to be the first Toroyan to fly a ship with a phased cloak, and I'm not willing to give up and have the Mystral tractor us home just yet."

Sreeden nodded and summoned the night watch to take the bridge as Maraqet walked slowly toward the turbolift. "Captain, I wish I could've thanked Anorha in person for the way she helped us. If there are truly Utavi with a conscience like hers, then maybe we can someday live in peace with them."

"Let's hope for that, Sreeden, although I can't help but be skeptical," Maraqet said. "At least Anorha died knowing she'd helped us defeat the cloaked ships and bring an end to the fighting." He boarded the lift and looked back onto the bridge with sad smile. "For her compassion and dedication, I hope she rests in peace."

to be continued


	10. Aukized

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. No infringement intended.

Summary: Chakotay begins to understand his role in the war effort and meets some unexpected survivors.

Note: This story takes place immediately after Phoenix.

Aukized (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

Sometime during the night, whether because of the subtly changed vibrations in the warp engines or the momentary delay in the reaction from inertial dampeners, Chakotay became aware of the fact that the Toroyan ship had increased speed and probably changed course. Ergonomic specialists would disagree, but a lifetime in space had taught him to pick up on the telltale signs of any significant changes to a ship's primary systems. He lay in his bunk listening for any other changes that might signal an emergency, but when those didn't come, he continued to stare into the darkness, waiting for morning, unable to sleep. Just after he'd finished dressing a few hours later, a similar change in speed occurred and was followed a hail from Captain Vitaris.

"Chakotay, this is Vitaris. Could you come to the bridge, please?"

"Right away," he answered as he reached for his shoes. He looked around his tiny quarters with the certain knowledge that he wouldn't be returning to them. Whatever was in store for him was about to be revealed, and he was ready for something, anything, to happen.

When he and his faithful security detail stepped off of the turbolift onto deck one, Chakotay looked around at the familiar control center of a starship with a sigh of relief. This was the milieu that he found most like home, and he found himself enjoying the view.

"Welcome to the bridge," Vitaris greeted him. "Please join me on the command deck. There's something I want you to see."

Chakotay left the guards behind as he threaded his way through the bridge stations and took a seat on the bench to the right of the captain. A tiny dot grew steadily larger on the view screen, but was still much too far away to be identified. From its size and configuration, however, he knew it was a large installation, not a ship. "Is that our new destination?"

Vitaris gave him an appraising look. "You knew we changed course?"

"I was pretty sure--too many years in space, I guess. You said earlier that we were going to a set of coordinates in space, not a space station."

"True. I received new orders about six hours ago. This is our primary shipyard, Tyee. It would be hidden behind passive shields if you were on a non-Toroyan vessel."

"Interesting." Chakotay wondered how much power it would take to cloak an entire shipyard, and realized that the amount was staggering. He glanced around the bridge and noticed that all of the readouts lacked the coordinates of their location, probably an automatic deletion made by the computer. "So the Union doesn't even know about it? No wonder they claim that your people are technologically challenged. They can't see your facilities."

The captain grinned in agreement. "Absolutely. In fact, we're prevented from coming any closer as long as we have an alien on board." He turned and ordered the ship to a dead stop.

"Why are we here?" Chakotay had no illusions about his scientific research or engineering abilities. He was a pilot and a tactician with only enough knowledge about the ship to make him a qualified bridge officer.

"You'll see shortly." Vitaris nodded at the screen, and Chakotay noticed, for the first time, an even tinier dot approaching the ship. The captain issued another order. "Shuttle bay 2. Prepare to dock approaching vessel."

Chakotay leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and studied the small image. Suddenly, he sat up straight. "That's my own ship!"

"Very good, Tyee." The captain gave him a hearty slap on the back. "You identified the ship very quickly."

Chakotay grinned. "When you're in a ship like that one, Captain, finding out who's approaching quickly is literally a matter of life and death." The closer the ship came, the more perplexed he was. The cargo pods had been removed, leaving the power plant and command pod looking rather like a turtle without its shell. The outer hull gleamed as if someone had washed and waxed it, and the scars and dents from years of hard use and the damage from the subspace mine had completely disappeared. "Wow. It look as if that ship's gotten a complete overhaul in a week!"

"Our shipyards can work miracles."

"I believe it."

"Why don't we go down the shuttle bay so you can look at the ship for yourself?" Vitaris turned the bridge over to his first officer and dismissed the guard that prepared to accompany them below. "I think this has gone along for too long, Tyee. Soon, you'll be returning to your people, and I want to part as friends."

When they were alone on the lift, Chakotay asked, "What was this all about? First my ship is nearly destroyed by a subspace mine and I'm kidnapped. And then, I get my ship back in perfect condition and am released. Just like that?"

Vitaris sighed. "I'm not privy to all the reasons behind my orders. We were told to keep you safe until we received further instructions. When they came, they said simply to retrieve your vessel and let you go back to the Caritas."

"From what I could see, those repairs were really extensive, and I don't understand why they were done. They had to cost a fortune, and I can tell you right now that the Caritas can't pay for them. Do your people expect us to pay for this?"

"No mention was made for payment, Tyee."

"Then I can only assume that there will be a day in the future when you expect us to do something for you, something we probably would rather not do. If so, you can keep the ship and just drop me off at the border. The Caritas would rather not be indebted to you or anyone else like that."

"I don't blame you. But there has been no mention of a debt, either. I would suspect, Tyee, that payment for this has already been made." A small smile appeared on the captain's face. "I would guess that the person waiting for you on your ship might have some answers."

Chakotay bit back his reply and struggled to rein in his temper. "You've been kind to me, Vitaris, and I appreciate that. While I resent being used like some kind of contraband, I don't blame you for it. I consider you a friend."

"Let's shake on it, then, as is the custom with you humans," he replied, extending his hand. "I wish you and the Caritas nothing but good luck."

They arrived in the shuttle bay just moments after the smaller ship had docked and the outer door had been sealed. Close up, the restoration of the ship was even more impressive. Chakotay walked up to one of the nacelles and touched it. "This looks brand new."

Vitaris walked up to the external port and keyed in an entry code. "Let's see what the inside looks like."

Chakotay climbed the ladder into the tiny living compartment and into the middle of three compartments, finding it completely unfamiliar. This section, which had served as the day room, had modern and updated equipment installed throughout. Two sleeping alcoves, which had been located in the smaller aft compartment, had taken over much of what had been the tiny diagnostic and first aid center. The galley and eating area had been similarly reduced in size.

"All this was done in a week?"

Vitaris shrugged. "It's amazing how much can be accomplished when an entire shipyard focuses its efforts on one small vessel."

Chakotay stepped into the aft compartment, which had once served as the crew's quarters, and was amazed to find an impressive looking mini-sickbay, complete with biobed and lab. He turned to Vitaris in confusion. "I don't understand why the crew needs to be crammed into the middle compartment like sardines just to have a sickbay like this back here. Why would we need something this elaborate? A single biobed hardly seems worth the trouble."

"I have no idea, Tyee. It does seem a little overboard for such a small ship."

Chakotay stepped past him and walked toward the bridge, which was in the forward compartment. "What's up here?" he joked. "A holodeck?"

He stood in the open doorway, too stunned to move. Every console had been removed and replaced with the most current technology, and the whole bridge had been reorganized to conserve space and streamline the work area. Chakotay was reminded of the Delta Flyer and felt a stab of homesickness at the thought of Voyager's updated shuttle. A Toroyan pilot stood up from the command console.

"Welcome aboard your ship, sir."

"Thanks." He stepped into the bridge so that Vitaris could follow him. "But I'm thinking there's not much of my old ship left."

"Big changes?" the captain asked, nodding briefly at the pilot. "It wasn't like this before?"

"Are you kidding?" Chakotay laughed. "It's all new."

"My name is Ketulan, sir. I'll be happy to show you the upgrades here and in the engine room below. I think you'll find it pretty similar to piloting the ship before."

"New engines, too." Chakotay walked around the two-station bridge, running his fingers along the gleaming black consoles. "Unbelievable."

Ketulan pulled open the hatch that let below. "Follow me?"

If the top deck had been a shock, the engineering section was a complete bombshell. Not only had the engines been replaced, they'd been upgraded and their efficiency doubled. Chakotay did a quick diagnostic and let out a low whistle. "You know, we had to limit the size of our cargo pods because the engines on this bucket couldn't handle as much as they used to. But now . . . amazing."

Vitaris, who had joined him in the small area, nodded in agreement. "This is quite impressive, all right. Some of these improvements haven't even hit the fleet yet."

"I don't get it." He turned to the captain, his temper flaring. "How can I accept this expensive overhaul without thinking there's going to be a big demand made of us in the future? Is it going to be money or a dangerous mission or spying? You tell me, Vitaris. Wouldn't you be skeptical?"

"Yes, I would be worried, too, Tyee. But, think about it. What can we do to force you to do something you don't want to do? You'll be out of reach, light years away from Toroyan territory. What leverage do we have?"

"Guilt? Gratitude?"

Vitaris shook his head. "To my knowledge, there should be no guilt. You didn't ask for this, nor have you been asked to pay for it. Take it and go. Don't look back."

Chakotay sighed. "What choice do I have?"

The captain returned to the bridge while Chakotay and Ketulan went over the upgrades, new control systems, sensors, and everything else that had changed on the ship. Even though almost every panel was new, Chakotay discovered that the ship was much easier to handle than before, almost reminiscent of the Flyer. "Did you work on getting all this done, Ketulan?"

"I was the chief engineer for it, sir. I took the specifications and made them work."

"Specifications?" Chakotay frowned. "You received specifications?"

"Yes, sir. Just after the war started, actually. We were told to expect a ship like this and what it was supposed to have on it once the retrofit was complete. Good thing, too, because the turnaround was so quick."

"Who sent the specifications?"

"Good question, Tyee. I don't know."

"Can I see them?" He waited as the Toroyan accessed the computer files and then downloaded them into a PADD. "If you don't mind, I'm going to read this with a cup of coffee."

"Go ahead, sir. Captain Vitaris has been ordered to head for the borderlands. It will be awhile before you'll be getting underway, so you might as well make yourself at home."

Chakotay replicated a sandwich and coffee and sat down at the small table to look over the document. He wasn't sure what he was looking for when he began, but soon, quite soon, he realized how familiar the specifications were. Some sections were almost verbatim copies of the capabilities of the newest shuttles he'd heard about, and others were in what could only be called a Starfleet format. Had the Toroyans allied themselves with the Federation as well? Was Section 31 playing both sides against the middle?

* * *

The next day, after a hasty farewell to Vitaris and his crew, Chakotay and Ketulan arrived at an outpost on the fringes of the Toroyan frontier. He could tell that he'd managed to impress the young Toroyan engineer with his piloting skills.

"You're a quick study, Tyee. I was worried about leaving you on this ship with just a few hours of training, but I'm thinking you'll do fine."

Chakotay smiled. "When you've flown dozens of ships across more than half the galaxy, certain flight principles just become second nature to you."

"More than half the galaxy?" Ketulan looked surprised.

Realizing that he didn't want anyone to know of his Delta Quadrant days, Chakotay thought quickly of another explanation. "You've heard of the Bajoran wormhole, haven't you? The Gamma Quadrant?"

"Ah, I see." He turned to the comm unit where a new set of orders had arrived. "Apparently we're supposed to pick up supplies here before moving on."

"Supplies? For what?"

"Apparently they've restocked the cargo holds that were on the ship originally. They've sent us the manifest."

He studied the document in disbelief. "Medicine, food, raw materials, spare parts, this list goes on and on. The holds must be bursting at the seams." He looked up at his companion. "You've overhauled the ship and given us all this, too?"

"I guess so. I didn't realize we'd be picking up the cargo holds until this message arrived."

Later, once the cargo had been attached to the ship, Chakotay turned slowly, taking a mental account of the vast improvements to the ship and imagining the supplies that had been stacked in the holds. There was no way that the Toroyans would be so generous without receiving something big in return. "I'm going to be stopped at the border and accused of theft, right? Or payment will be demanded from us in the future, one way or another."

Ketulan looked sympathetic. "If I knew the answer, Tyee, I swear I'd tell you."

"I know that." Chakotay rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm afraid I've learned to be paranoid in recent years."

"For what it's worth, Vitaris is one of our best and most revered captains. I don't think he would participate in anything that is illegal or dishonest."

Chakotay nodded. Their parting had been very cordial, and Vitaris had promised to provide any help necessary if he were ever in a position to do so. "So, what's next?"

"I leave you here, sir, with instructions on the course to take in leaving our territory. You're supposed to stop briefly at Aukized and then set course on a direct vector toward your home base."

"Aukized? That sounds familiar."

"It's the planet where the whole war started again. The station that was destroyed in the first battle used to be in orbit around it." He stood up and stretched. "It isn't far. You should be there in a couple of hours."

Chakotay thanked him for his help and took the seat. "How are you getting back?"

"There are transports, of course, but my family lives nearby. I might just take advantage of the chance to see my parents." He made his way toward the small transporter and then stopped. "Oh, there was one small thing I failed to show you. Each of the last two messages had two words at the bottom that were left untranslated. I'm guessing you might be able to read them."

Chakotay read the words aloud, recognizing the motto of the student wing of Starfleet Academy. "Veritas vencit."

"Does it mean anything to you?"

"Yes," he whispered, almost too shocked to speak. "It means 'the truth conquers.'"

"Let's hope so, sir. The protocols to use when approaching Aukized are there. I wouldn't worry too much about an armed response. The only people still living on that planet are Auki clerics."

Once Ketulan beamed off of the ship, Chakotay spent an hour going over the interior with a fine-toothed comb. He found a few oddities, such as a transponder to show his location to Toroyan space control and a cleverly concealed microphone in each compartment, but nothing that could be called dangerous or suspicious, such as a bomb with a timing device. He would have to be careful about what he said out loud until he could disable the listening devices, but, for now, he decided to leave everything as it was. His first priority was to get back to the Caritas in one piece.

After replicating a few phasers and hiding them in convenient locations for self-protection, he made the short and uneventful trip to Aukized, using the quiet time to think through the amazing events that had transpired since he'd last piloted the ship. He couldn't help but smile as he anticipated the way Riker, Ro, and the others would react when he returned from his captivity with a "new" ship filled with supplies.

Once he was in orbit above the proper coordinates on Aukized, he opened a comm link to the frequency that was specified in his instructions. "Tyee to Aukized."

"Stand by for transport," came the immediate and terse reply.

Chakotay fingered the phaser in his pocket as he watched for someone to appear on the transporter pad, his heart pounding in anticipation. This could be the beginning of the end, he realized, anything from a hostile refugee to an angry cleric. "Think good thoughts," he murmured as the familiar sparker of the beam appeared in the cubicle.

A single person in the robes of a clerical sect appeared before him as he leveled his phaser at the person's head. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And what do you want from me?"

Pulling the hood off of her head, a human female stepped out toward him. For the briefest moment, he thought she might be someone he recognized, imagined that the reports of Kathryn's death had been wrong, but his hopes were quickly dashed. He'd never seen this woman before.

"If you'll agree to call me Annie," she said, holding her empty hands toward him. "I'll agree to call you Tyee."

He blinked in surprise. A human who knew his real name? And living on the planet around which the Toroyan station had been in orbit? He realized with a shock of relief that this must be one of the Ambassador's delegation, one who had survived the attack, and, if she'd survived, then others might have, as well. Maybe even Kathryn. He lowered the phaser. "All right, Annie. Call me Tyee."

She stepped off of the platform peeling off the rest of the heavy robes. She looked around the cockpit with a practiced eye, and he saw there a training that had to be Starfleet in origin. "I'm guessing we're not speaking freely, either?"

"A ship recently upgraded by aliens and, as yet, unsecured? It's best to wait."

She nodded, folding the last of the heavy clothing with a look of disgust. "At least the conditions here are warmer than an iceberg in the North Atlantic." She gave him a smile. "There's supposed to be a sickbay on this ship."

"Right this way." He led her through the middle compartment and watched as she did a thorough examination of the biobed. "This will work fine."

"For what?" he wondered aloud.

"Our other passenger, of course." She walked to a reflective wall panel and blew on it with her breath, writing letters on it before the steam evaporated and then pointing at herself. Marci Brooks.

His eyes widened, realizing that she had been Kathryn's security chief. For some reason, the Toroyans had reported her as dead, perhaps to protect her from a further attack. If they were taking on a second passenger . . . could it be Kathryn? He swallowed his anxiety and said, "I see."

"We need to get this bed ready for him." Marci pointed at the biobed and traced another name on the panel. Kazuo Katsumata.

Chakotay's face fell, but he quickly recovered his equilibrium. "We can beam him directly here, if you'd like."

"Good idea." She saw the disappointment on his face, but all she could do was give him a sympathetic pat on the arm. "I don't know for sure about her, Tyee, but I'll tell you what I do know later. Right now, I'll go back to the cockpit and arrange to have them transport our patient directly to this sickbay. We call him Toshi, by the way."

"All right. I'll stay here to be sure he's in good condition when he arrives." As soon as he was alone, Chakotay leaned wearily against the wall. He'd seen the pity in Marci's eyes. She knew that he had been hoping their other passenger would be the admiral, and he felt like an idiot for wearing his heart on his sleeve. What she'd told him was tantalizing in its uncertainty. She knew something about Kathryn, but not everything. He desperately wanted to believe that she was alive and well and hoped that whatever Marci told him would reassure him of that.

A few moments later, a young man who reminded him of Harry Kim at the beginning of Voyager's exile materialized on the biobed. Chakotay hurried to his side and activated the biobed, noticing serious damage to the spinal cord. Schooling his features to hide his shock and dismay, Chakotay looked down and smiled at the patient. "Welcome aboard. I'm Tyee."

Kazuo waited for the respirator to assist his breathing. "I'm Toshi."

"There you are!" Marci said brightly as she stepped back into the room and went to the biobed to check his condition. "It won't be long now, I promise."

Kazuo nodded and closed his eyes, obviously exhausted by the excitement. "How long before we reach the Caritas base?"

"Less than a day, with these new engines," Chakotay answered. "I'll go set a course."

Marci joined him on the bridge a few minutes later having made sure that Kazuo was comfortable. "We're hoping that the Caritas' doctors can do more for him than the Toroyan ones were able to. The injuries he suffered on the station were made worse when a dirty bomb went off in the engineering section."

"A dirty bomb?"

"The Union planted a combination explosive and biological weapon in the Station. I think it was supposed to go off right after the first one, but something delayed it. Toshi was too close to it and hasn't been able to recover. Yet."

"I have to say that the better I get to know the Union, the less I like them."

Marci laughed. "Since I'm going to meet the Caritas soon, why don't you tell me something about them? They sound like they do a lot of good around these parts."

"Oh, they're great people." He spent the next hour talking about the thirty or so members of the Caritas, describing how they hire out for periods of time and then donate their excess salaries to the purchase of equipment and supplies for the people who were in need. He talked about how they took turns delivering the supplies to the refugees and bystanders who were victims of the war, but not participants in it, and finished with a detailed account of the Sestwani camp that had caught his particular attention. "The Caritas saved my life," he finished, "and they gave me something to live for when I thought I'd lost everything."

"I can't wait to meet them. The stories of their good deeds have reached even my home world."

They spent the rest of the trip talking about everything but the one thing Chakotay most wanted to discuss.

* * *

The day after their arrival at the Caritas base, Marci and Chakotay found a secluded spot on a secure Caritas' vessel where they could talk. They sat down across from each other and Chakotay wasted no time.

"Tell me everything," he demanded, "every detail."

She smiled indulgently. "I'll start at the beginning. Tuvok hand-picked me to be the admiral's security chief, and I was honored that he trusted me with his dearest friend. He told me that there would probably be an attempt on her life and that he wanted me to be vigilant." She looked away. "Some vigilance, hm?"

Chakotay shrugged. "I'm sure you did everything you could think of to make sure the station was safe. No one would blame you for what happened, certainly not Tuvok. But I think it's interesting that he knew she might be targeted."

"He didn't say why, he just said that he believed it could happen."

"I'm guessing that her reassignment to Tydkt's staff could definitely be seen as a sort of 'disciplinary' reaction to something she'd done."

"Maybe so, but she seemed very happy to be out here. She threw herself into the work and made great strides in opening a conversation with the Toroyans, something the ambassador seemed unwilling to even attempt, although it seems that she must have pissed off the Utavi in the process. And . . . ," she gave him a brief glance, "she did a little private research into the Caritas, as well."

"I can't say I'm surprised. So, she set up this initial meeting with the Toroyans."

"Yes, although the ambassador took it over, of course, overruling her on the location, the number of ships, you name it. They quarreled quite vocally, and she told me that she fully expected to be relieved."

"Now that surprises me."

"You had to know Tydkt. The admiral actually had two items she wanted to pursue on the station. The first was the obviously the official meeting with the Toroyans and opening a dialogue with them. The other was personal."

"Let me guess. Something about Belle Colony."

She grinned. "I think so, although she never told me any specifics. This personal visit was why we survived the initial bomb in the conference room. We'd left the area for a 'covert meeting' with our secret contact, or we surely would've died with the ambassador."

"Do you have any idea who this contact was?"

She shook her head. "The admiral had received a couple of vague messages from someone who called himself 'Pegasus.' She mentioned that the Pegasus was the name of a ship that had tested a phased cloak a few years ago. It wasn't until after everything was over that I wondered about that. Maybe the guy was trying to warn us."

"But he didn't warn you?"

"We never actually met him. When we got to the specified location, we heard a struggle, but by the time we got through the door, the room was empty. And then Kazuo found us and insisted that we return to the conference."

"So that's how the three of you survived?"

"We were almost back to the room when the first explosion occurred. We were knocked backwards and disoriented for a few moments, and then, once we could see that there were no survivors in the room, we took off. Some of the Toroyan survivors were chasing us, and at that point, we thought they were responsible for the attack. We thought they wanted to kill us, too."

"It was a fluid situation."

"To say the least. We wanted to get off the deck, but my leg had been injured, so I volunteered to stay on the same deck and lure our pursuers away while Janeway and Kazuo used an access tube to go below and try to get to engineering. That was the last time I saw the admiral in person."

"What happened to you?"

"The Toroyans caught me almost right away and beamed me to a nearby ship. I found out then that they thought we had caused the explosion and had known in advance about the cloaked ships." She shook her head in amazement. "The admiral had suspected that the Union was undermining our reputation with them, and I found out she was right."

"And Kathryn? Did they catch her, too?"

"Eventually. Kazuo doesn't remember much, and the Toroyans weren't terribly forthcoming, but I've managed to piece it together. Suffice it to say that they were both hurt when one of the Toroyan ships breeched near the station. Apparently, they were found by the team who'd been in engineering. Janeway was beamed onto a ship at once, but Kazuo had suffered a spinal injury. The Toroyans were trying to immobilize him to prevent permanent damage when the second bomb went off, the dirty bomb with the biological component. The Toroyans died quickly from the effects of the virus, but Kazuo, with his human physiology, has managed to stay alive so far. Barely."

"That's when you and Kazuo were reunited?"

"Yes, at the Auki enclave. But not the admiral. I haven't seen or talked to her since we split up after the explosion."

He swallowed hard. "She might be dead."

"I think she must be alive, Tyee. I'm pretty sure she was alive when they found her, and she wasn't on the station when the dirty bomb exploded." She reached and touched his arm, lowering her voice. "Who else would have asked the Toroyans to capture you and upgrade the Caritas ship so that Kazuo could receive proper care en route?"

"She's the one who asked for me?"

"Who else would? She obviously suspected who 'Tyee' really was, don't you think?"

His thoughts returned to Draxxon. Had she heard Borland refer to him as Tyee? She'd been weak and in and out of consciousness so much that he hadn't even thought about the possibility. "Did she meet Anorha right away, at the enclave?"

"Who's Anorha?"

He quickly recounted the story of the Auki cleric who had helped turn the tide of the war by assisting Captain Maraqet in the hunt for the cloaked ships.

Marci shook her head. "An Auki cleric did that? I'd be surprised."

"I read a report from the Toroyan captain who worked with her, Marci."

"If you say so. I guess it's possible, but let's just say it would be extremely unusual. The clerics refuse to interact directly with anyone who isn't an initiate into their sect. Kazuo and I were there for over a month, and I never met a fully initiated cleric in person."

"This one had technical knowledge on phased cloaks that she wanted to use against the Utavi."

"An Auki cleric, and a female, too? I know they do some fancy research there, but I only know that by reputation. They were very carefully insulated from us by their attendants. And you must know how Toroyans feel about taking females onto warships."

"So you don't know if she helped them deal with the phased cloaks."

"I have no idea."

He wanted to shake her, but he knew that the frustration he felt wasn't her fault. It was just like Kathryn to take everything on her own shoulders, put herself at risk, while everyone else waited in the wings, safe and sound. "Kathryn would have made some demands of the Toroyans if she gave them a hand. She could have asked them to upgrade the ship, fill the holds with supplies, and then make sure the two of you were delivered to the Caritas safe and sound."

"As repayment for her help?" Marci grew thoughtful. "You know, that may be what happened."

Chakotay was sure of it. "So, the question is, where is she now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Tyee. I'm guessing she's had to do some fast talking to get the Toroyans to listen to her, much less allow her to accompany them on a warship during a battle."

"If anyone could do talk them into it, Kathryn could." He was suddenly so exhausted that he wanted to lie down on the floor and sleep until this living nightmare was over. "I hope she remembered to negotiate her own safe return while she was at it."

"I only worked with her for a short time, but I found the admiral to be quite thorough."

He grinned at that comment. "Oh, she's thorough all right. I'm just wondering if there's something we might be doing at this end to help her." His smile broadened. It helped, somehow, to think about Kathryn that way, the way he used to picture her when he was her first officer on Voyager. He was always trying to anticipate what she might need from him as a crisis developed, and looking at this as another one of those crises made her seem more alive to him, as if she might just beam without fanfare onto the bridge of one of their ships or arrive at Marilas' farm as if returning from a routine away mission.

"We should just be ready for her to show up at any moment, I guess." Marci was surprised at Chakotay's sudden smile and found it impossible not to smile back.

"If I know her as well as I think I do," he replied, his optimism growing stronger, "you're probably right."

to be continued


	11. Pegasus

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. No infringement intended.

Summary: Life goes on. And Chakotay has a surprise waiting for him.

Note: This story begins about one week after Aukized.

Pegasus (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

"I'm terribly sorry about Admiral Janeway," Captain Schuler told Commander Tuvok when they met on Starbase 450 a few weeks after Hyperion's near destruction at the Toroyan station. "Did you work with her a long time?"

The Vulcan showed no visible sign of grief. "We worked together on-and-off for nearly sixteen years."

"It's a terrible loss. I liked her."

Tuvok bowed his head slightly, carefully repressing any evidence of the deep emotions the mention of her death caused him. "She was an excellent officer and a good friend."

With the support of Admiral Owen Paris and the influence of Gretchen Janeway behind him, Commander Tuvok had experienced no trouble being appointed to the security team assigned to investigate the ambush of the Hyperion. He left for Starbase 450 immediately after the Toroyans had returned the commbadges and rank bars of the casualties. The first thing he'd requested was for Schuler to collect every available sensor record of the battle so that he could reconstruct the events in the order in which they had ranspired, and then he'd spent his first two days on the Starbase carefully analyzing the events as they had been recorded from a variety of perspectives. He was hoping to test his theories against Captain Schuler's memory.

"I really wish the ambassador would have listened to Janeway's advice. If we'd had another ship or two with us at the station or if we'd been in a less remote location, the battle would have turned out much differently."

Tuvok agreed. "She truly understood the vulnerability of a single vessel in the middle of hostile territory. Even so, I'm sure she thought the Toroyans would be the source of the threat, not the Utavi Union."

"We all did. I know I was astonished when we figured out that those cloaked vessels were Union ships. I've been assigned to this region for several years and had no reason to think that they would attack us. Frankly, I'm still confused by their actions."

"Obviously, something occurred to change their attitude, Captain, and I believe that whatever it was threatened them so deeply that they staged a surprise attack designed to kill every Federation citizen rather than deal with the issue openly."

"But what could that change be? Janeway had been with us for several months, and her arrival was the only significant change I can think of. Why would they find Janeway a threat?"

"That is, of course, the question. When I last saw the admiral on Earth, she believed that the ambassador had shown favoritism toward the Union and was adamant about the need to open a dialogue with the Toroyans. Her intent was to help both sides find a way to end the hostilities, of course, but the Utavi might have perceived her attitude as a change in loyalty that would result in the Federation becoming an enemy."

Schuler sighed. "Tydkt let the Utavi think we were their allies, when he should have made it clear that we were disinterested observers determined to remain neutral. But, he enjoyed being courted by the Utavi, and he found them to be much more hospitable. He spent a lot of time on their home world, too much, in Janeway's opinion."

"He spent little time with the Toroyans?"

Schuler shook his head. "Have you ever heard the old joke about allies? The best species to make your ally is the one whose environmental settings are closest to your own?"

Tuvok didn't crack a smile. "Indeed, I have heard it, Captain. In the early meetings between humans and Vulcans, the temperature of the meeting room was routinely the first issue to be negotiated."

"True. I tend to forget that Vulcans prefer a hotter climate."

"We have long since found a workable compromise. But, as you say, the temperature was an issue with the Toroyans?"

"The only species that I know of with a lower comfort setting is the Breen, and they have to wear special refrigerated suits to co-exist with humans. I'm not sure there is a temperature that would be mutually comfortable for humans and Toroyans, Commander."

"Interesting." Tuvok templed his fingers. "At least I can better understand Tydkt's otherwise irrational preference for the Utavi."

"Why would the Utavi be worried about the Federation allying with the Toroyans?"

"I don't know. However, the Utavi destroyed the station and tried desperately to destroy your ship before you could report the details of the battle to Starfleet. If they had been successful, we would have had very little data for review. It would be natural for us to assume that the Toroyans were responsible for the ambush." And, Tuvok thought to himself, the Utavi could have denied the Toroyan's allegation that they had ships with phased cloaks by claiming that their enemies were doing whatever they could to shift the blame from themselves. And no one would have been able to prove them wrong.

"Commander, I've heard that you finally managed to get all the sensor logs arranged into a coherent timeline."

"Yes, I've coordinated the events based on the logs from Hyperion and the four Toroyans ships in the area." He handed the captain a PADD with the information. "There were several events that occurred so close together to seem to be almost simultaneous."

"Let me guess--the explosion on the station, the sudden activation of the station's shields and jamming device, and the decloaking of the ships."

"That was the first set of nearly instantaneous events. The blast took place just a fraction of a second before the shields and jamming device activated on the station and about 2.4 seconds before the ships appeared in normal space."

"That sounds about right."

"Only one ship, a Toroyan vessel on the far side of the station, picked up the pulse that detonated the bomb."

"The bomb was detonated from inside the cloaked ships?"

Tuvok nodded. "There is also evidence that the cloaked ship emitted a second pulse that was blocked by the jamming device. Because this pulse was of a slightly different frequency, I believe there was to be a second explosion immediately after the first."

"A second explosion?" Schuler frowned. "Why?"

"I believe there were two areas of the station that were inhabited. One was the conference room where the ambassador was meeting with the Toroyan leaders, and the second was the station's engineering section."

The captain nodded. "Kill the principles first, and then the support personnel."

"And make sure that the Station is completely annihilated before turning on the Hyperion."

"I felt guilty for leaving the area, Tuvok. I knew I should verify whether there were survivors, but the attack was vicious and unrelenting."

Tuvok understood the human's feelings and sought to help him put his guilt aside. "I believe it is quite fortunate that you did so, for your survival and report back to Starfleet allowed us to reconstruct accurately what actually happened."

"But I don't know what happened. That's just it. I had to get my ship out of there."

"The Toroyan data provides a clear, if somewhat fragmented, account of what happened after Hyperion left the area. Two Toroyan ships attempted to rescue the surviving engineers while the rest attempted to keep the Unionists from escaping. A Toroyan vessel blew up near the engineering level of the station, dooming it to complete disintegration. It also terminated the jamming device that had prevented the second bomb from detonating. The second bomb exploded and released a biological component into the area."

"Biological?"

"It would seem that the Unionists are very thorough."

"We would've been long gone by then," Schuler mused, thinking through the event carefully. "How did the Unionists get on the station to begin with? I mean, that station is pretty deep in their enemy's territory."

"Clearly, the cloaked ships had visited the station earlier."

"You're kidding."

"I never 'kid,' Captain." He made a few adjustments to the PADD's readout and returned it to Schuler. "It's quite likely that there were a few Unionists on the station just prior to Hyperion's arrival. They might have been hidden behind a personal phased cloak."

"Wow." Schuler whistled softly under his breath. "If the Toroyans had activated the jammer just a few seconds earlier?"

"They would have prevented the disaster."

"Amazing. But, why would the Toroyans have even thought of shields and a jamming device? They'd agreed to let us keep a transport lock on the ambassador and his team, and they knew that would interfere with it."

"Something must have happened to make them think an attack was about to occur."

"So they took extra precautions." He blushed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Most of us thought they were just being paranoid. They assumed that the Utavi were lying, when we kept assuring them otherwise."

"Admiral Janeway had a favorite saying, 'Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you.'"

Schuler laughed. "There's a lot of wisdom in that."

Tuvok nodded. "There is one other mystery, Captain. In the material that the Toroyans returned to us, there was a damaged Utavi data chip that was reportedly found in the admiral's possession."

"Oh, yeah. I saw that in with the commbadges and rank bars. We couldn't make heads or tails of it and decided it must've fallen in with the other things by accident."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Hardly, Captain. I was able to access some of the data on the chip and found a file that looked different from the others. After several aborted attempts, I was able to download the information in the file." He pulled a second PADD from his case and handed it to Schuler. "I think you'll find it very interesting."

The captain glanced through the files casually and then sat up straight in his chair. "Tuvok! These are the blueprints for the cloaked ships!"

"So it would seem."

"Janeway had this with her?" He looked up, confused. "She knew about the cloaked ships ahead of time?"

Tuvok shook his head. "From my many years of service with her, I can assure you that she was unaware of those cloaked ships, Captain. There is no way that she would've taken a ship to that station if she had any idea that something like this ambush was possible."

"Then where did she get this?"

"I believe she was given this data chip by someone on the station, or perhaps found it there. It is definitely not from Toroya. There are dissident groups in the Union that want to stop their government from spending so much on the war effort and use those funds for more charitable purposes. Perhaps they found a way to give her this data."

"Did the Toroyans realize what they were giving us?"

Tuvok bowed his head slightly. "I believe they did. The disc had been accessed prior to its return to us."

"And this information allowed them to mount a defense against the cloaks. They used this information to adapt their tactics and fight back successfully."

"I believe so."

Schuler beamed at him. "Excellent work, Commander. I wasn't sure what good the Toroyan's sensor scans would do in piecing all this together, but you obviously did. I'll forward your report to Stafleet command at once."

"Thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to remain in the area for awhile. I'm intrigued by this assassination and want to continue to look into the Union's motivation."

"More power to you, Tuvok. I hope you figure out, and the sooner the better."

Later, after the report had been encrypted and forwarded to Starfleet command, Tuvok reopened the Unionist file and wondered how long it would be before someone at headquarters realized just how familiar the format of those plans were. They were Federation blueprints clearly marked with the coordinates of origination in their copyright file--coordinates that coincided with the location of Belle Colony.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Just as they'd feared, Janeway's transfer to the war zone was the first step toward her assassination, a deed to be accomplished by the Unionists themselves, who were apparently partners in Section 31's illegal research so many years earlier.

It made good sense, actually. Section 31 had been most logical in their research into phased cloaks. They had sought a technically advanced species which had not, as yet, opened diplomatic relations with the Federation, and enlisted their help in the development of a ship-based phased cloak generator. It would be of mutual benefit, of course. The Unionists could use it to help win the war against the Toroyans. And Section 31 could study the cloaks, ostensibly to prepare Starfleet's defenses against them, without involving scientists who were aware of the prohibition against cloaking devices as established by the Treaty of Algernon.

It also explained the puzzling fact that the victim's names had never been published following Belle Colony's destruction. The admiral had hoped that the casualties had been overstated or even nonexistent, but now it was clear that those who had perished must have been Utavi scientists and their families, not Federation citizens. Publishing their names would reveal the covert partnership and reveal Section 31's treachery.

Now the Vulcan understood why the admiral hadn't shared everything she'd known with him before her departure--what she'd learned had been so volatile and dangerous that sharing it with him would put his life in danger, as well. He could hear her telling him to watch his back, to be aware of how ruthlessness this secret group was that had sacrificed the lives of hundreds of aliens in order to avoid taking responsibility for their illegal actions. Without a doubt, Janeway's research into the details of the Belle Colony disaster had brought about this elaborate and deadly ambush at the Toroyan station. He would have to proceed carefully as he brought this evidence to light or he would risk putting all of them at the mercy of a deadly enemy.

Tuvok sat down before a table in his quarters and lit his meditation candle, staring into the flame as he slowly cleared his mind of all emotion. The last thought he put aside concerned the file that had unlocked the blueprint's code. It had contained a few garbled bits of damaged text that closely resembled letters in ancient Vulcan, text that when rearranged and assembled became a phrase that he and Kathryn Janeway had used privately for years to let other one know that all was well and that further information would soon make everything clear.

Despite his years of Vulcan training, Tuvok's emotional control faltered. That brief message implied that Kathryn Janeway was alive. For the second time in as many days, he needed to meditate in order to control the relief and joy that threatened to overpower his Vulcan self-discipline.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to supervise the delivery or the supplies, Annie?" Chakotay asked as he checked the transport schedule one last time. The Caritas ship was in orbit above another Sestwan Camp, this one much closer to the war zone than the one that was home to his friend, Alita. It was Chakotay's first trip since his return from Toroyan territory a week earlier and just what he needed to take his mind off of other, more troubling matters. "It's a lot of work getting everything stored properly in their warehouses." 

"I'm ready for some physical labor." Marci Brooks was obviously excited about participating in her first mission of mercy. "Besides, there seemed to be several brawny fellows available for the hard labor."

"They were probably just checking you out," he teased her. That morning, she and Tom Riker had gone down to meet the camp's leaders and make sure the storage facility was large enough for their supplies while he'd stayed behind on the ship. "I imagine that it's been awhile since they've had any new females to gawk at."

"If you say so." She stuck out her tongue at him as she took the manifest.

Tom Riker peered into the hold. Since this was their first time at this particular camp, and since their Starfleet guest had insisted on coming along, Riker had decided to join them. "All set, Annie? They're waiting for us."

She almost danced with excitement. "I feel like a kid on Christmas morning! Those poor people are so thrilled about what we're bringing them I can hardly believe it. I mean, who would imagine that a ton of rice would make someone so happy?"

"I know. It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" Chakotay stepped to the cargo transporter and studied the delivery queue. "I've got everything organized up here. Just let me know when to start beaming the supplies down and verify the coordinates."

"Okay. Stand by," Tom answered, giving him a wink. Chakotay was glad that Tom had finally let the doctor repair the scar that marred his good looks. The plastic surgery was an outward sign of Ro Laren's influence in his life, and it was about time the two of them found some degree of happiness after their many years of dangerous service in the Maquis.

After the other two had beamed to the surface and while he waited for their signal to begin transporting the supplies, he thought about all he'd learned from Marci since he'd discovered that she had been with Kathryn Janeway during the Union's attack on the Toroyan station. He wondered when he'd see her again and whether she was thinking of him.

She had undoubtedly helped the Toroyans solve the problem of the cloaked ships. Either she had joined forces with the cleric Anorha that Chakotay had heard about, or she'd been Anorha herself. If it was true that Section 31 had worked with the Union in developing the phased cloaks for their ships, then Kathryn would think it was only fair play for her to assist the Toroyans in defending themselves against the new technology. Voyager had run across such cloaks several times in the Delta Quadrant, and she was more than capable of directing an attack from a remote location such as Anorha's quarters. And she was no doubt still working with them, trying to establish a basis for an on-going diplomatic relationship.

Riker contacted him with instructions to begin the transports, and he spent the next several hours beaming the supplies to the Sestwan Camp, grateful that the work took his mind off of the mystery of Kathryn's location. It wasn't hard work, but it was a strain to check and recheck the coordinates and occasionally shuffle the contents of the deliveries, and it seemed that the Sestwani weren't as prepared to store the supplies as they should have been.

"That's it for tonight, Tyee," Riker announced when they were about two-thirds finished with the delivery. "Not only is it getting dark, but it's started to snow. The Sestwani have invited us to stay the night, and I think Annie is anxious to do so. I'll stay, too, just to keep her company."

"Understood, Tom. Give me a call when you're ready to resume the transports in the morning."

"Be sure to leave the shields up, and try not to get too scared up there by all by yourself, my friend."

"Don't worry about that," Chakotay laughed. "I'm looking forward to a night without your snoring, Tom."

He shut down the transporter and secured the remaining supplies, at long last climbing back up to the cockpit to check the ship's orbit, verify the shield strength, and get something to eat before he turned in. The pilot's seat was a pretty comfortable recliner, designed to serve as a makeshift cot for just such times as this, when the rest of the crew was busy elsewhere and the pilot needed to stay close to the controls. He was tired after a long day and soon leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, hoping for happy dreams.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when the proximity alarms went off. Still groggy, he sat up just in time to see a cloaked Union ship appear inside his defensive shields, leaving him vulnerable to both phaser fire and their transporter. While he was scrambling to put up some sort of defense, he heard the unmistakable sound of a transporter activating behind him. He grabbed a phaser and whirled to face his assailant, who was, to his amazement, a small, unarmed figure swathed in some sort of religions robes. He leveled the phaser at the person's head and muttered, "Don't move, or I'll shoot."

"Are you going to shoot me, Chakotay?" The hood fell back to reveal a face that was just as familiar to him as the voice had been.

The phaser clattered to the floor as his arm fell to his side. "Kathryn?"

* * *

Kathryn couldn't remember how she ended up in Chakotay's arms. One moment she was standing in the cockpit of the Caritas ship staring at the business end of a phaser and the next minute she was being tightly held by her former first officer, her feet several inches off of the floor as he repeated her name again and again into her hair. And, much to her amazement, she found herself burrowing into his chest, seeking the warmth and affection that she had desperately needed in her four weeks in the frigid arctic climate of the Toroyan ships. 

She wanted to believe that the sudden heat and humidity of the vessel had made her woozy and that Chakotay had rushed to her side to prevent her from fainting dead away. She wanted to think that the hug was an act of friendship and camaraderie left over from their long association on Voyager. But she knew better, and she refused to lie to herself any longer. The tears in her eyes were signs of a deeper attachment than she had ever admitted to herself or to him.

She pulled back and looked into his familiar brown eyes, which were also filled with tears, and she welcomed the rush of relief that spread through her body like lightening. His tattoo was gone, an unfamiliar, but very attractive moustache adorned his dimpled grin, and his silver-streaked hair was longer than she'd ever seen him wear it. Nothing mattered to her but that this was Chakotay who was smiling back at her, alive, well, and obviously thrilled to see her again. With a sob of relief she collapsed into his embrace once again, chuckling at his reaction when she buried her ice cold nose in the warm sensitive skin of his neck.

"Good grief, Kathryn, you must be frozen stiff."

"Cold nose, warm heart," she teased, enjoying the way he groaned at her lame joke. "You know how frosty those Toroyan ships are."

He glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to discover that the cloaked vessel that had filled the view screen moments earlier was no longer visible. "Are they gone? Or just cloaked?"

"Gone." She pulled away from him and peeled the thick fur-lined mittens off of her hands. "I hope you don't object to picking up hitch-hikers."

He watched in fascination as she pulled off a second pair of gloves and leaned over to unzip and toe off her insulated boots. "That depends on where you want me to take you. Are you headed for the Caritas' camp?"

She nodded as she shrugged the bulky Auki robes off of her shoulders and then pulled a thick wool turtle neck sweater over her head in one quick movement. "I need to pick up Marci and Kazuo before I head back for the Federation, but first I want to spend some time with you and the Caritas."

"Just how far down are you going to strip?" he wondered aloud as she slipped the straps of an oversized set of overalls off of her shoulders and stepped out of the legs, kicking them aside with a foot that wore at least three layers of socks. Even after her disrobement, she was clad in lined slacks, a long-sleeved shirt, and what had to be thermal underwear.

She grinned and him and gave him a wink. "This will do . . . for now." She saw him study her painfully thin body and hoped to deflect his inevitable question about her health by pulling him close for another hug. She realized, too late, that he would easily feel her bones through the material of her clothing.

"Kathryn, are you all right?" he whispered.

She sighed, suddenly fighting exhaustion. She wanted to blame her vertigo on the emotions from their reunion and the sudden heat of the ship's environment, but she knew there was more to her fatigue than that. She confessed the truth. "I picked up a bug that's made it hard for me to keep my weight up. I'm hoping your doctor can help me."

"A bug?" His face clouded, and she knew he was thinking of the ferocious illnesses of the region. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the back of the ship. "Let's use our new biobed and see what's really going on."

"Not right this minute," she insisted. When they entered the crew lounge, she pulled her hand free of his and then made a bee-line for the replicator. For the first time in days, she had an appetite. "I want some coffee first and a piece of pecan pie."

Chakotay hung back, still concerned about her condition. "Kathryn, these 'bugs' are nothing to just shrug off like the sniffles. They can be dangerous."

She sipped her coffee gratefully and turned back to grab the plate of pie from the replicator. "Their doctors have been doing what they can to help me," she explained as she crossed to the table and sat down to eat. "The medication they use for their people helps a lot. It just seems to be taking longer, and, anyway, I think the weight problem is from trying to stay warm in such a cold climate." She looked around curiously. "Where is everybody?"

"They're staying on the surface until in the morning." Chakotay frowned, frustrated, as always, at her failure to take proper care of herself. "You should eat something besides pie."

"Bring us both some vegetable soup," she suggested and then laughed. "You know, I don't even know what time of day it is for you. Maybe an egg and cheese omelet would be better."

"Omelet it is." He checked the clock, realizing that it was the middle of the night. "We have about four hours before Marci and Tom will be requesting the rest of the supplies."

They shared the omelet as Kathryn filled him in on her most recent venture.

"When ship's warp core breeched right next to the station, Chakotay, I just knew we had finally run out of luck. The station lost gravity, and then the deck whirled beneath our feet until the far wall crashed into us. When I regained consciousness, I was in the sickbay of a Toroyan vessel heading away from the battle zone at full speed."

"They rescued you."

"They _captured_ me, or, at least, at that point they considered me a prisoner of war. I was lucky—I just had a few bumps and bruises. But I found out later that Kazuo was critically injured and on a different ship undergoing emergency medical treatment. Well, I don't need to explain that. You know about him. And Marci, as well."

"You'll be glad to know that he's getting better. The doctor thinks he'll be able to travel soon."

"I'm relieved. I never saw him or Marci once I left the station, although the Toroyans have kept me informed of their situation. They were turned over to you in good shape?"

He nodded. "Well, Kazuo is still recovering. Marci is fine and is with me, only down on the planet's surface. You'll see her tomorrow."

"Thank God." She took a deep breath of relief. "Well, back to the story. While I was being taken to the Toroyan home world for interrogation, they confronted me about the data chip I'd picked up off of the floor at the aborted meeting site. I told them I'd found it, and the Toroyan admiral took it from me. Luckily, he could tell that I hadn't accessed the information on it chip, and he found a message warning me of the Union's intended attack. That was enough to prove that I was unaware of the conspiracy. You'll never guess what else was on it." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "It contained a complete set of blueprints of the Union's phased cloaking device and of the ship they designed to carry it."

He couldn't believe his ears. "It had everything on it that you needed to know to mount a real defense against them."

"Exactly. I asked for an audience with their prime minister and told him I knew what to do to help them prevail over the Union ships. They were suspicious of me, of course, because they were convinced that the Federation was allied with the Union. I managed to change their minds, but only when their commander-in-chief decided to support me."

"You were the one who helped them destroy three of the ships and finally capture one," he smiled, putting two and two together. "You were Anorha."

"Not exactly." She smiled and pushed the empty plate away from her with a groan. Could it be that something as mild as a cheese omelet was upsetting her stomach? "Anorha was the Utavi scientist who had done research into phased cloaks. She was well aware of the history of the Union's device because she was there at every step of the way."

"She defected?"

"Not exactly. She was upset when she realized that the technology wasn't going to be used for exploratory purposes—going into dangerous nebulas, working on planets with caustic atmospheres, repairing areas of power plants that were flooded with dangerous radiation. She didn't want her work used as an offensive weapon against their enemies."

He sighed. "The classic naïve scientist."

"Yeah, she was. Somehow, she sneaked onto the Toroyan station prior to our arrival with the hope of meeting me and giving me the data chip, only the Toroyans found her and beamed her to a ship before the fireworks ever started."

"She must have been Pegasus."

Kathryn's head snapped up in surprise. "That's right, she was. Marci must have told you about that."

He nodded. "So you didn't meet her on the station."

"No, although I did find the data chip at our meeting spot." She blinked a couple of times, her nausea increasing. "The Toroyans took us both to their home world because they thought, at that point, that we might have conspired to bring about the attack. We managed to convince them otherwise, but only because of the message she'd made warning me."

"I can just imagine how you convinced them," he laughed remembering all the times on Voyager that she'd defied the odds and forged an unlikely alliance. When Kathryn Janeway put her mind to something, she was relentless to see it through. "You offered to help them fight the cloaked ships."

"Yes, for a price--the upgrades to this ship and the safe passage of Marci and Kazuo to the Caritas. It didn't hurt that the Toroyans were doing a miserable job of fighting the Utavi ships."

"I thought you must have been behind this."

"It took some doing. The Toroyans don't let women participate in actual battles. The prohibition has something to do with their females' delicate reproduction systems; they have trouble conceiving after they've been traumatized or something like that. The only way they could think of to get us on the ship without a mutiny was to have Anorha pose as an Auki cleric, with me as her personal attendant."

"I can't see you letting someone else be the boss."

She chuckled. "Anorha posed as the cleric because she was at least familiar with Toroyan customs. A true novitiate to the order, Petran, took care of us. He was also a decent medic who kept Anorha alive far longer than I thought was possible." She took a sip of the coffee, which suddenly tasted very strange. "Anorha was very ill, near death, but she was determined to make things right before she died. We worked together to help the Toroyans bring the ships down. She provided most of the technical know-how, and I translated her information into a workable strategy."

"And so you were able to bring balance back to the situation."

"Well, it seemed like the least I could do, since we helped unbalance it in the first place. In the process, I've managed to befriend the Toroyans, and I think that the Federation might actually be able to bring peace to this region at last. That's what I've been doing since the cloaked ship was captured. Talking to their people. Showing them what the Federation is really all about. Promising to do what I can to keep the peace process going when I get home."

He didn't want to think about her leaving. "I'm glad, Kathryn. This war has gone on too long."

She leaned forward and took his hand. "Anorha told me something else that's very important, Chakotay, something I've been trying to prove for years."

"What would that be?"

"She told me that she actually lived on Belle Colony. She said that the entire laboratory was staffed by Utavi scientists and their families, not Federation personnel."

His eyes widened in surprise. "That explains a lot."

"Doesn't it? I wondered why the names of the victims were never published, and now I realize it's because they were basically 'illegal aliens.' But that's not all she told me, Chakotay." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "She said that there were no deaths when the dome collapsed because there was no one in the colony that night. They'd all been evacuated days earlier, and only a small contingent of scientists, including Anorha, remained in an observation base that was hidden behind an experimental phased cloak."

He stared at her in astonishment. "No victims?"

"You aren't a murderer, Chakotay. The personnel your tricorders picked up while you were raiding their supplies were nothing more than computer shadows." The tears, at last, spilled down her face. "I was determined to find out the truth about that night, and Anorha was the final piece of the puzzle. I knew you were innocent, and I've been wanting so badly to tell you the truth."

Stunned, Chakotay sat back in his chair, his eyes unfocused. "All these years I've lived with the guilt of my actions. I thought I'd killed three hundred innocent men, women, and children, and I thought that I deserved to be punished severely for that. I felt like a hypocrite in so many ways."

She shivered, not stopping to wonder why this warmer environment might seem cold to her. "Don't you see? You're not hypocrite and you're not guilty of anything more than being tricked into helping Section 31 destroy their secret laboratory and hide the illegal activities that had gone on there."

He leaned forward, crossed his arms on the table, and then buried his face them. "What a fool I am, Kathryn, to be used like that. And then to turn around and put the people I care about most in the universe in harm's way."

She put a hand on his head, threading her fingers through the soft hair with gentle affection. "Don't think that way, Chakotay. You were deliberately lied to by people you thought you could trust. The shame is on them not you." She paused and leaned toward him, hoping to catch his eye. "Isn't it wonderful? Once the truth is known, you can come home! The charges will be dropped, because they can't prosecute you for something that never happened."

He sat up, his face a mask of anger. "Is that what you think? Do you really think I can come home just like that?" He pushed his chair back and began to pace. "You have no idea how far up the chain of command this Section 31 goes, do you? You can't imagine that the Starfleet you believe in could never consciously condone the secret actions of this bunch of thugs."

She refused to back down. "If you're asking whether I think that the right people will correct these mistakes, then the answer is yes."

"And what about the wrong people? The ones who have been after both of us? What about them? They're still there, Kathryn, and they don't want to be caught. Coming back while those people are still on the loose would risk my life and yours."

She was stunned by his accusations. "Are you saying you won't come back?"

"I'd be afraid to." He leaned on the table, his face inches from hers. "I still have a price on my head, Kathryn, and I bet you do, too. What's worse, when someone collects either reward, they'll be paid in Federation credits. Think about it. My Starfleet 'contact' literally sold me into slavery so that I'd be killed in that dilithium mine. If Tom Riker hadn't rescued me when he did, I'd be long gone. And then Draxxon? The first time we're together in one spot since Voyager returned, and the building goes up in flames. What could be easier than staging a bar fight on a planet like that? They hoped to kill us both and solve all of their problems in one magnificent blow, but we managed to escape."

"Draxxon?" She shook her head to clear her mind. "You think it was Section 31 that started that?"

"Who else? And this reassignment you were given to be Ambassador Tydkt's military attaché? It was a set up, and you know it. The ambush on the Toroyan station was nothing less than a failed assassination attempt, and you were the target."

Her head was spinning as she struggled to think of a way to disprove his allegations. When she could see no flaw, she frowned and buried her face in her hands. "Are you claiming that Admiral Hayes condones this vendetta? Do you really believe that he approves of assassination and treachery and won't take action against those who've broken the law?"

He sat back down in the chair across from her, looking miserable. The news of his innocence should have filled him with pleasure, but she could see only anxiety, apprehension, and resignation in his eyes. "I don't know what to think any more, to tell the truth. I don't know who to trust--except you. If nothing else, Hayes has turned his head rather than confront the truth about Section 31. I hate to admit it, but I'm really scared to think about either of us returning until all of this is sorted out, if it ever is. Too many people have too much to lose if the truth becomes public."

Kathryn felt as if she could throw up. "But, Chakotay, I have to go back. I don't see that I have any other choice."

"Neither do I," he answered, giving her a small smile. "I've enjoyed a measure of security ever since my 'death' has been reported. Maybe you should take advantage of your own 'demise' to do some covert research of your own. You're welcome to stay with the Caritas for awhile."

"Maybe I should." Kathryn gripped the edge of the table as a wave of vertigo hit her, and she finally recognized her symptoms as a strong resurgence of her illness. She reached for the pocket where she kept the hypospray the Toroyan physician had given her, only to realize that she'd left it in the robe she'd shed left on the floor in the cockpit. She fought back a wave of nausea with closed eyes. "Oh, God. Chakotay, I feel like I could pass out."

He was instantly at her side, and she felt him lift her from the seat and carry her to the aft compartment where the biobed was located. His face appeared over her, but was distorted by her inability to focus. "Kathryn, you have a dangerously high fever. Why didn't you tell me you were this sick?"

She had trouble making her voice work. "I'm going to throw up."

He pulled a receptacle from beneath the biobed and held her as she emptied her stomach of all the food she'd just eaten. "If you're getting better, how much worse have you been?"

She laid back on the bed, covered in a cold sweat. "The medication I need is in a hypospray in a pocket of the robe I was wearing."

"Hold on. I'll be right back." His face disappeared and as he rushed for the cockpit, she heard him hail the surface of the planet. "Tyee to Riker. We have a medical emergency up here."

She'd managed to get here and tell Chakotay what he needed so much to know--that there were no casualties on Belle Colony, no reason to be burdened with guilt. She could see that he was happy here with the Caritas and that they would comfort him and support him no matter what happened. He was a survivor, and he'd make sure that Marci and Kazuo were safely returned to the Federation. She could trust him to do that. She could trust him with everything.

When he came back and she was feeling better, she'd tell him the only other thing of any importance--how much he meant to her. Once she'd done that, she could finally rest in peace. She could close her eyes and stop the struggle against this relentless illness, secure in the knowledge that her work was done.

She struggled to remain awake, fought to remember what it was she needed to do, but the world blurred and she felt herself floating off of the biobed in a most remarkable fashion. She slipped quietly into unconsciousness before Chakotay returned with the medication.

to be continued


	12. The Farm

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: As Kathryn Janeway slowly recovers from her illness and looks forward to her return to the Federation, she decides to take care of some unfinished business first.

Note: This story takes place about three weeks after Pegasus.

The Farm (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

With the approach of spring, the slow, quiet days of winter on the farm were coming to an end. Marilas was busy with dozens of chores, from letting out clothes for the children, to planning the household garden, to deciding which crops to plant, and to rounding up the cattle that roamed the meadows in the hills surrounding the farm. All this was in addition to her usual duties of running the household, cooking, cleaning, tutoring children, and doing mountains of laundry. She was relieved that Kathryn was gradually growing stronger and that Chakotay was there to help her take care of the outdoor work.

She stood over the sink, washing the last of the breakfast dishes when a blond toddler who was playing with crayons on the kitchen table asked, "Is Aunt Kathryn coming downstairs for awhile today?"

"Yes, I'm sure she is," Marilas answered, giving the girl a smile. The children loved the woman who was gradually recovering her health, and Marilas knew the joint effort to help her had unified the children and given them something to occupy their minds during the cold, dreary winter months. "I think she'll probably sit in the rocker on the porch for an hour or two after lunch."

"I'll let her use my colors, if she wants to."

"That's sweet of you, honey. But I imagine she'll just want to rest. She gets tired coming down all the stairs from her room." Marilas returned to the dishes, but her mind wandered back to the first day Kathryn Janeway was with them.

_The farm was in the grips of last great storm of the winter, its fields and buildings transformed into a wonderland by the six-inch snow that had fallen the day before. Marilas had been notified the previous day to prepare the room for another patient, and the children, home from school because of the weather, had scurried to help her. _

_Chakotay beamed onto the front porch of the farmhouse with Kathryn in his arms, and Marilas met him at the front door, following him as he carried her up the stairs and into the tiny chamber that had been his own recovery room following his brush with death the previous year. He laid the woman gently on the bed and then opened the blanket that had been wrapped around her. Marilas could have cried at the frailty of her new patient, but her heart had nearly broken when she realized that this was the Kathryn that Chakotay was so devoted to. _

_"You must . . . be Marilas," Kathryn mumbled, her blue eyes luminous with fever. She was so pale that her freckles looked as if they'd been painted on her face, and her bones looked as if they could break through the surface of her skin at any moment. Even so, Marilas could see that she would be a stunningly beautiful woman when she was healthy. "Thank you . . . taking me in . . . have so many . . . children." _

_"Nonsense," she replied as she helped Chakotay slip the shivering woman into the bed. "Tyee is part of our family, and, because he loves you, so do we." _

_Tears welled in Kathryn's eyes as Chakotay tucked her in, and Marilas stood back and watched as he knelt down and embraced her, cradling her to his chest as he wiped away her tears with his handkerchief. "The doctor will be here soon, Kathryn. Go to sleep, and you'll feel better when you wake up. And Marilas is right. I do love you. Surely you've known that I've always loved you, all these years." _

_"I . . . love you . . . ." Kathryn was becoming incoherent as he laid her on the pillows and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. In spite of her obvious exhaustion, she reached up and touched his face. "I . . . meant . . . tell you . . . so long." _

_"Right now, you need to rest. I'll be here when you wake up." _

_Kathryn fell asleep instantly, and when Marilas saw that nothing was left to be done, she went to the kitchen to find Chakotay something to eat. "You have to keep your strength up, Tyee. She's counting on you." _

_"I almost lost her, Marilas. I don't know what I would've done if that had happened." _

_He was still sitting beside the bed when Marilas returned, so she set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of him and then stared at him with her hands on her hips. "I can't believe that you've never told her how you feel about her. Why haven't you?" _

_"She was the captain," he shrugged as he spooned the soup into his mouth. "And the time was never right." _

_Marilas sat down on the foot of the bed with a sigh of resignation. "Maybe someday you can help me understand why her job kept you from telling her that you loved her." _

_He grinned, a mischievous look on his face. "I'll let Kathryn explain it to you. I'm not really sure I understand it myself." _

Marilas thought back over the last weeks. Chakotay had spent every possible moment with Kathryn, even to the point of setting up a cot in her room so that he could be there if she had a bad dream or became restless in the night. When she was too weak to feed herself, he put every bite of food in her mouth, and even after she was stronger, he continued to take all of his meals with her, often cooking special dishes himself or having favorite foods replicated by one of the Caritas vessels in orbit overhead. When Kathryn started feeling better, he brought the children to visit her one or two at a time. Kathryn would cuddle a small child on her lap while Chakotay read them a bedtime story, or he'd bring up some of the older children so that she could help them with their math or science homework.

Although the two of them seemed close, Marilas never saw any indication of a more intimate connection, and she found herself concerned about that. At first, she attributed their restraint to Kathryn's fragile health, but when it persisted after her strength returned, Marilas worried that the lack of privacy in the farmhouse and the omnipresent tribe of orphans might keep them from acting on their obvious attraction to each other.

And so, she made plans to provide them the privacy and the seclusion they needed.

When Chakotay came in from the fields for lunch, he walked with Kathryn down the stairs to the ground floor and settled her in the rocking chair on the sunny porch. Marilas brought their food to them so they could eat together privately and watched them through the window as the smaller children, who were too young for school, ate around the large kitchen table. Once the kitchen was cleaned and her sisters had shepherded the children upstairs for their afternoon naps, Marilas took her mending to the porch and sat down beside the dozing Kathryn for a few minutes rest.

"I don't know how I can be so tired when all I do is sleep," Kathryn said when she opened her eyes and realized that she was no longer alone.

"You were a very sick lady. In days past, most people didn't survive a serious bout of avlyn fever."

"I'm no doubt spoiled by Federation medicine, too. Most diseases are cured in days, not weeks, and there is little if any discomfort along the way. I've learned a lot from this experience."

"You would have recovered more quickly if the Toroyan doctor had given you the proper amount and strength of medication."

"I don't blame the Toroyans for my illness. They're unfamiliar with alien species and had seen very few humans before. In some ways, in spite of the illness, I'm glad to have had the chance to see . . . ," she paused, smiling slightly because she had almost forgotten to use Chakotay's alias, "I'm happy to spend some time with Tyee after such a long separation."

Marilas gazed toward the field where Chakotay was busy mending a fence. "Did I tell you about his recovery with us? He was in even worse shape than you were when he arrived. He'd been starved, overworked, and beaten repeatedly during his six months in the mines. For the first few days, he was in and out of consciousness. I'm sure he didn't remember meeting me, but he always knew who I was. Or, I should say, he knew who he wanted me to be."

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't understand."

Marilas continued as if she hadn't heard her. "He thanked me for each little thing I did for him, and he never failed to tell me how much he loved me. Well, not really me, of course, but one person in the world who could answer his every need, as far as he was concerned. The one person Tyee knew he could count on to take care of him, no matter what." Marilas turned to her patient with a sad smile. "He called me Kathryn."

Her comment was met with icy silence and a sudden spike of tension. Marilas realized that she was seeing, for the first time, the remote, inscrutable face of a Starfleet captain. She reminded herself that this was the person who had safely brought a single ship and nearly one hundred fifty crew members across seventy thousand light years on the strength of her character alone. There was titanium beneath her frail-looking surface and an iron will that Marilas had seldom seen in anyone else.

"Is that true?" Kathryn asked, her eyes a steely blue. "Perhaps he was hallucinating."

Marilas frowned. In spite of Kathryn's effort to discourage her, she cared too much about Chakotay to back down. "I mean that he saw his heart's desire, the person his spirit needed with him if he were to find the strength he needed to survive the pain and challenge of his recovery. Kathryn, you're everything to him, the one person who completes his world. If you return to your home planet, as he says you will, you'll take the greater part of his heart with you."

Kathryn looked away, suddenly fascinated by the blossoms of the potted plant on the table beside her, and then she turned back to face Marilas. "Tell me something," she whispered, gesturing at their surroundings, "is this what you dreamed for yourself when you were a girl? Working from dawn until dusk taking care of fifteen orphans? Running this farm with only itinerant help? Did your ideal future involve cooking three meals a day? Laundering a never-ending mountain of laundry? Wiping drippy noses and changing dirty diapers on someone else's children? Getting up at all hours of the night to nurse a sick child?" She paused, taking a deep breath. "Did you imagine yourself alone?"

Marilas was stunned by the anguish in the woman's voice. "Of course not. But, I've done what had to be done."

"So have I." Kathryn closed her eyes and absently rubbed her forehead with her fingertips of her right hand, half shielding her face from view. "We're all the victims of life's cruel sense of humor. Just as you've done what you've had to do, so must I. I have no choice but to return to the Federation, Marilas, no choice but to complete my duties and live up to my responsibilities, and Cha . . . Tyee understands that. Maybe, someday, he can come home, too."

Marilas heard the despair in the younger woman's voice and felt her own heart breaking. "Kathryn, I'm an old woman who has seen too much suffering in my life. You asked me if this is what I dreamed of for myself? I guess I imagined what every other young person does--that I would be the exception, that I would be the one person who would never suffer, never grieve, never face disappointment. I lost everything. Everything. And I learned this--love is the only thing worth dying for and the only thing worth living for."

Kathryn started to interrupt her, but Marilas kept talking. "There was a man in my life, years ago, before the Cardassians captured and ruined our world. The week before he left for the war, we met for a few stolen days. We had no idea what the future held for us, but we knew that whatever happened, we'd have that time to remember. As it turned out, I never saw him again. They say he was killed in the opening moments of the first battle, and there was a time when I thought I had to die of the pain of losing him." She paused to wipe her eyes with her apron. "Even after all these years, the memory of those hours has kept me warm at night, Kathryn, and they are as fresh and real to me today as if they happened yesterday. I wouldn't trade them for anything."

Kathryn reached for the older woman's hand, tears of sympathy in her eyes. "Marilas, I'm so sorry."

"You and Tyee have a chance to give each other that kind of memory, Kathryn, if you care enough about each other. The love that you share is a rare gift, something to be treasured, even if it's only for a brief moment. Don't underestimate how much it means to both of you or how it can make the rest of your life seem worthwhile." She stood, taking the glass that had held Kathryn's tea. "Can I bring you anything, dear, before I start supper?"

"No, thank you, Marilas, I think I'll go up to my room and rest." Kathryn struggled to stand up, managing only when the older woman boosted her with a hand on her elbow.

"I'll keep the children downstairs so you can sleep."

Just inside the door to the house, Kathryn paused, her eyes focused on some faraway object. "Thank you for sharing your memories with me. I promise I'll keep what you said in mind. And, just so you know the truth, when I return to the Federation, Tyee won't be the only one suffering. I'll be leaving the larger part of my heart with him, too."

"Before you leave, promise me that you'll tell him that?"

"I promise."

* * *

At sunset, Chakotay stopped at the farm office and cleaned up in his small apartment before he came into the farmhouse for the evening. He greeted the children, who were anxious to share the news of the day with him, and then joined Marilas in the kitchen. 

"How long did Kathryn stay downstairs after I left?" he asked her as he helped set the table.

"Maybe an hour." She glanced up at him, a little anxious to tell him about the tense conversation with Kathryn. "I think she skipped her afternoon nap, though. When I was up there checking on the baby, I saw her sitting by the window."

"Was she upset about something?"

Marilas looked away. "We talked about the future, and I'm afraid I might have said some things I shouldn't have."

"The future? You mean the fact that she's going back to the Federation soon?" He could see the misery on her face and shook his head with a tolerant cluck of his tongue. Marilas was overprotective of him, yet he knew she just didn't want him to be hurt.

"I know she has a big job, Tyee, but that doesn't mean that she can hurt people in the process."

"By hurting people you mean me. I hope you didn't make her feel guilty about that, Marilas. I understand why she has to go, and she has enough on her mind without worrying about anything more."

"I probably should have kept my mouth shut."

He smiled. "Don't worry about it. I doubt that you said anything that she hadn't already thought of herself. I'll go up and see how she's doing. I was hoping she'd join us for dinner tonight, but if she hasn't had a nap, she'll probably be too tired to do the stairs again."

"I'll bring up a tray," Marilas said as he left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time, arriving at the door to her third-floor room slightly winded.

He found Kathryn sound asleep in the rocker, snoring softly with her head drooping at an uncomfortable angle. He stood watching her for a moment, thinking about all of the hours they'd spent together in that room, starting with the first night.

_Chakotay had just finished his soup when Kathryn suddenly cried out in absolute terror and tried to get out of bed, shouting orders as if she were on the bridge. Chakotay caught her, and as he struggled to subdue her, he was amazed at the scalding heat of her skin. _

_"She's spiked another fever," Marilas realized, helping him put her back into the bed. "When is the doctor supposed to get here?" _

_"He's on his way." Chakotay pulled the blankets from the bed. "There's a hypospray with fluids in it in my bag over there." _

_Kathryn's condition had worsened by the time the doctor arrived thirty minutes later, and after he'd examined her and administered some medication, he took Chakotay aside. "The Toroyans gave her the same strength of medicine they would take, but they didn't do her any favors in the process. Because their higher body temperature makes it easier for them to recover naturally, the lower dose works well. But a human body is the perfect breeding ground for viruses, and this amount of medication alleviated her symptoms enough for her to be able to function, but not enough to keep the disease from building up a resistance to the drug and getting a death grip on her system." _

_"A death grip?" Chakotay repeated, his heart skipping a beat. "Is she dying?" _

_"It'll be a close call, but I think she'll recover, although it will take weeks, not days before she's able to travel. I'm giving her a higher dose of a stronger medication, which will make her feel even worse for awhile. Be sure to give her regular hypos of fluids. She can get up to use the bathroom but that's all. I'll be back to check on her tomorrow." _

_Chakotay, Marilas, and her two sisters took turns fighting Kathryn's fever all night and all the next day until finally, near midnight, the fever broke and their patient rested quietly. Chakotay held her in his arms as the women stripped the sweat soaked sheets from her bed and brought a clean, dry nightgown. He put her on the bed gently and tucked her in, so exhausted that he nearly toppled over. _

_"I'll stay with her tonight, Tyee," Marilas told him. "You need to get some sleep." _

_"I'll sleep right here," he answered, leaving no room for discussion. "I'll bring that cot in from the other room and sleep right next to her bed so I'll hear her if she needs me." _

_"The crisis is past, Tyee, and I'll keep a monitor open so I can hear any little noise she makes." _

_He shook his head. "I'm staying." _

_Marilas gave up on dissuading him and concentrated, instead, on making him as comfortable as possible. It was the first of many nights that he kept vigil beside her. _

_Her gradual recovery had given them time to catch up and reconnect, to renew the special bond they'd had from almost the first moment they'd met. When she became discouraged about her slow improvement, he would hold her in his arms and whisper encouragement until she relaxed against him and fell asleep. For the first time since they'd been alone together on New Earth, they were able to concentrate on each other and explore the depth of their affection for each other. It was no wonder that he found himself more deeply in love with her than he'd ever been before. _

He crept into the room and, kneeling beside her chair, pushed a strand of her long hair away from her face. He gave her a grin when she looked up at him in surprise. "Hi, sleepyhead. You should be taking this nap lying down."

"Hi, yourself," she answered, groaning as she stretched her back. "I tried it that way, but I couldn't sleep, so I decided to sit here and watch for you to come home. I guess I fell asleep and missed you."

He pulled the footstool to the side of the rocker and sat facing her as they talked. "Was something bothering you?"

"Not really. I don't need as much sleep as I did even just last week, and I'm getting bored sitting around doing nothing. I need to find something to do with my time."

"Marilas could probably use some help. Maybe you could work on the accounts? Or reorganize her filing system? Iron or mend clothes? Wash dishes?"

"I get the idea." She chuckled, giving him a playful punch on the arm. "Anything but cook, right?"

"Well, we couldn't inflict something that dangerous on innocent children." He gave her a wink as several of the children thundered down the stairs with squeals of laughter, and his smile widened. "I'm amazed you can sleep through noise like that."

"I've come to appreciate the clatter of little feet. I enjoy being part of a big family." She studied his face. "You like it here, too, don't you?"

"I feel useful here, and I like the feeling of community the sisters have fostered. I don't know how Marilas has managed to run this place so well with just her sisters to help her. Winter is a down time, so she's had time to pamper you, but now that spring's here, you'll see that the real work is about to begin, work that is much too demanding for a woman of her age."

"Oh, I grew up in farm country, remember? I know about farms, and I can see for myself how much work all these children generate, even if they do help as much as they can. I guess she hires people to come in and do the planting?"

"That's what she does most years. But, this year, because I'm here to help, she'll be able to save that money and put it toward some other improvements." He looked out the window toward the hills. "The farm is huge, you know, extending many miles up into the high meadows in those hills. Marilas has asked me to check on the herds that winter up there, so I might be gone for a few days next week."

"Gone a few days?" She sat up straight, surprised at the news. "Where do you stay while you're up there? In a tent?"

"No tents. There's a line camp in the foothills. I'll stay there at night and spend the days checking on the herd and finding out how many calves we need to round up and have the vet vaccinate."

She looked out the window, her eyes unfocused. "It would be beautiful up there, I imagine. Lots of sunshine and fresh air."

"I was up there briefly last fall. The days are short, because the camp is in a valley. It's quiet and cool during the daylight hours, but downright freezing at night."

"It couldn't be worse than a Toroyan ship," she exclaimed with a chuckle, and then paused, giving him a probing look. "I could go with you."

"Are you kidding? You're still weak, and, besides, you don't like to camp."

"You said it was a line camp, so there would be a cabin, right?"

"Well, yes, but the cabin is really rustic. It makes a Starfleet shelter look like a luxury hotel."

She refused to be deterred. "It would do me good to get out of this house and get some fresh air. I'm getting stronger every day, you know."

"Kathryn . . . you'll be alone. I'll be gone most of the daylight hours."

"You're gone all day here, so it wouldn't be that different. I can rest there as easily as I can here. I'll talk to the doctor, and if he thinks that I can handle it, will you let me come with you?"

He took her hand and studied it, running his thumb over the bones that still seemed too prominent to belong to someone who was close to being healthy. "I know better than to fight you when you've made up your mind."

She cupped his cheek with her free hand, forcing him to look into her eyes. "We both know that I'm going to be leaving soon. I can't bear to miss out on seeing you while I have the chance, and I don't even want to give up a few days. Is it wrong of me to feel that way?"

"Of course not. I want to be with you, too."

At that moment, Marilas arrived at the door followed by one of the teenaged boys who lugged a heavily-laden tray up the stairs. Although she suspected that she'd interrupted an intimate moment, she breezed into the room and announced, cheerily, "We're here with dinner. And I brought enough for two."

The subject of the trip was dropped, but Chakotay was sure he hadn't heard the end of it. And he had to admit that the thought of spending a week alone with Kathryn was something he'd dreamed of for too may years. However, he forced himself to concentrate on the present and let the future take care of itself.

* * *

"Welcome to Ballestrude, Mr. Ramos." After a cursory glance at his credentials and a quick retinal scan by the computer, the port authority worker handed Ramon Cabrera his papers and nodded for him to pass through the checkpoint. "Your connecting flight will be leaving in just over twelve hours, but I recommend checking in an hour early." 

"Thanks for the advice," Cabrera replied, pocketing his papers and congratulating himself for spending the extra credits for the best counterfeiter he could find. He picked up his bag and then turned back to ask, "Can you tell me where the cheapest hotel is located?"

The woman smiled and nodded toward the front of the station. "That would be the Night Sky Inn, right on the city square. Just take the transport marked 'Downtown' and get off at the central station. You can see a sign for the hotel from the front exit of the building."

"Thanks." Cabrera walked slowly toward the exit, his body stiff and sore from the long trip on the shuttle. He'd been forced to take a roundabout route to his destination, and this planet on the fringes of Federation space was just one in a dozen stops designed to lose anyone who might be following him as he took the roundabout way to his destination. Even though Starfleet had declared him dead, he suspected that there were elements of that organization that wanted definite confirmation of his demise.

He found a window seat on the transport and spent the twenty minute ride into the city soaking up the familiar feeling of peace and prosperity that permeated planets that were members of the Federation, even ones on the fringes the way Ballestrude was.

He had made a few excursions into Federation space over the years, the latest being his brief visit to Earth to try to warn Kathryn Janeway about the Belle Colony conspiracy, but he hadn't walked on Federation soil for nearly ten years. He appreciated the difference that _Pax Federatica _created in a society, for he saw no evidence of hunger, poverty, sickness, or greed. He realized that he was glad to be coming home at last, even if he lost his freedom, and maybe his life, in the process. It was time to do something to avenge his crewmates from the Coquille who had lost their lives simply because they'd done their jobs too well.

He'd been devastated by the news of Kathryn Janeway's assassination, and he knew that was exactly what had occurred. He remembered vividly the determination in her blue eyes as she refused to back down and let the Belle Colony incident go. At the time, he'd thought that she was crazy to take such a risk with her life, but then he realized that his own life was nothing to be proud of. He lived in hiding, moving frequently, never putting down roots, and for what? To be alone for the rest of his days? Better do to what he could to make things right and reclaim his pride. And so, he started his journey toward the information that would do just that--bring about revenge.

Rain was turning to snow when he walked to the front of the ground transport station and found the hotel's sign glowing dimly in the deteriorating weather. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and started across the city square at a quick pace. The Night Sky Inn was probably the oldest and least modern hotel in the run down capital of a second class planet, and it was that lack of technology that appealed to Cabrera. They would take paper identification instead of a thumbprint, their files were constantly months behind in their security updates, they allowed payment in hard credits instead of drafts, and they were too desperate for patrons to look too closely at their papers. He soon found himself in a cold, dark room at the back of the building where the heat was questionable and the smell was nauseating.

He hung his damp outerwear over the radiator and quickly unpacked what he needed from his gear. His disguise as a computer repair technician gave him the advantage of carrying a myriad of computer components that might create questions if they were in anyone else's possession. The benefit was an easy and secret access to a planet's communication net. He quickly assembled his "spare parts" into the devices necessary to open a secure, untraceable line of communication. He verified the flights he'd planed for his covert journey across the Federation. Secrecy and hiding were part of his life that he had never taken lightly.

He composed a brief note, encrypted it, and saved the draft for one final check in the morning. It had to be enigmatic and yet clear, something that would compel the reader to act. After terminating the connection, he sipped tepid water from the tap and ate the last of the travel rations that he'd packed. Since it was late night on the planet, and since he was already exhausted, he took a quick shower and climbed into bed.

In the morning, once he'd reviewed the message, he'd send it to Janeway's friend, Commander Tuvok. A stardate and a carefully jumbled set of coordinates would bring the Vulcan to the shattered Maquis camp on Tevlik's moon in the Badlands at about the same time that Cabrera planned to arrive there.

He hoped that the files that he had so meticulously encrypted and hidden there years earlier had escaped damage in the Cardassian massacre, but there was no use in worrying about whether the information survived. He would have to check it out in person to know for sure, and he would have to be ready to move once he retrieved them. Every member of Coquille's crew had been grilled multiple times about the necessity of turning over all records of any scan of Belle Colony, and Section 31 would be very unhappy to find out that he'd told a lie under oath. He was sure that they would consider it a capital offense.

In the meantime, all he could do was be patient and keep moving.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway supposed that she was the only person in the farmhouse who was still awake at two o'clock in the morning. She'd tried to sleep, but found her heart racing and her mind unable to stop its restless review of all that had happened to her in the last two months. 

Two months. Just over eight weeks earlier, she'd beamed onto the Toroyan station and had been caught up in a new, dramatic chapter of her life. The weeks with Anorha would have to eventually be reduced to a few pages of a factual, objective Starfleet report, and she actually looked forward to writing it. She was used to the bureaucratic prose of such papers and usually found the whole process cathartic.

The weeks she'd spent recovering under the protective wing of the Caritas would be another issue altogether. She could hear their questions now: "Why did you allow the Toroyans to report to the Federation that you'd been killed at the station?"; "Why did you turn to the Caritas once your collaboration with Anorha ended when you could have returned to the Federation?"; "Why did you wait another two months before letting the Federation--not to mention your poor grieving family--know of your survival?"

She had answers, of course, for each question, and Starfleet would probably accept them as valid reasons. If her would-be murderers thought she was dead, she could move and work without fear of another assassination attempt. If her efforts to establish a reliable relationship with the Union and the Toroyans were to succeed, she needed to find a neutral third party like the Caritas to help her evaluate the true situation in the region. Starfleet would see the logic of such explanations and attribute the maverick nature of her actions to the seven years of independence she'd exercised in the Delta Quadrant.

Gretchen and Phoebe Janeway, however, would demand a better, more personal explanation for putting them through the agony of yet another bogus death. They would see the need for her deception on a professional level, but they would see through it, too. They would correctly suspect there was more to the situation that she was neatly sidestepping, a reason which could be boiled down to one word.

Chakotay.

From where she was sitting, she could see the light glowing in the window of his apartment. He, too, was awake for some reason, and she wished for a commbadge or intercom that would allow her to summon him to her side. After all their years apart, she never tired of talking to him, hearing his voice, and watching the expressions on his face. She smiled to what he would say if he knew she was up at this hour--something about the return of her insomnia as a sure sign of her return to normal. But she also knew that it was the prelude to her departure.

At least Chakotay understood why she had to leave, even if Marilas didn't. She thought back to the discussion she'd had with Marilas that morning and the lecture she'd been given about memories to "keep her warm." She smiled at the thought, wondering if Marilas would accept the seven years of an intimate friendship on Voyager as an adequate substitute. She doubted it. And to be honest, it was no longer enough. She was no longer his captain, even if he was still a criminal in Starfleet's eyes. He'd always been a criminal to them.

She would have a hard time writing a report on her stay at the farm, for there were large gaps in her memory following her arrival on the Caritas ship. She remembered vividly the first moment she'd seen Chakotay again on the tiny bridge, and smiled to think that he had once again aimed a phaser at her as he'd done at their first meeting on Voyager. She knew she'd thrown herself into his arms and wasn't at all embarrassed by her uncharacteristic display of emotion. They had each been told that the other was dead, and they both needed the physical reality to banish the grief and fear that had gripped them.

Everything after that moment for a period of almost two weeks was a blur of sound and color, with a few disconnected flashes of clarity. She didn't remember Riker and Marci's return to the ship, the flight to the Caritas' home base, or her arrival at the farm. As for the women who took care of her, she suspected that she'd introduced herself to them a half dozen times in the next few days. She recalled the pattern of sunlight and moonlight on the wall, the aroma of cooking, the subdued voices of children outside her door, a cool cloth on her forehead, and gentle hands feeding her, helping her to the bathroom, changing her into a clean gown.

Through it all, there was one constant presence, one special face, one tender touch, one sympathetic voice that she looked for with desperation. Chakotay. It was his presence that brought her peace, assurance, and the ability to rest. She knew that if he were with her, he would take care of everything while she recovered, and she was relieved that each time she surfaced from the deep well of her illness, he'd be there, waiting to comfort and reassure her.

Then, early one morning, she'd awakened and known where she was for the first time in days. She heard the voices of the children as they went through their morning routine and prepared for school. She smelled the breakfast being prepared, fresh bread, fried meat, and an enticing tang that reminded her of coffee. The weak dawn light gave the room a warm rosy glow that was almost magical. Her headache was gone, she could breathe easily, and her joints no longer burned when she moved them.

She'd rolled over and then stopped in shock, for not a foot away from her was Chakotay, sound asleep on a cot that looked to be a foot too short for him, close enough for her to reach out and touch him without moving from her bed. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude as she realized that his constant presence hadn't been a wishful dream or a figment of her imagination. He'd literally been at her side day and night, and the depth of his devotion suffused her with love.

With a trembling hand, she'd reached for him, touching his cheek with a gentle caress. His eyes had opened instantly and stared into hers, his momentary worry evaporating into a smile of recognition. This was the real Kathryn looking at him, back from the febrile delusions and confusion that had plagued her.

"Hey, I know you," he'd whispered, covering her hand with his own. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," she'd answered with a shy smile on her face. "But, where are we?"

The light in Chakotay's apartment flickered out, and Kathryn sighed in resignation. She would have to try to sleep. Back in her bed, she stared at the stars in the night sky and imagined the most direct route back to Starbase 450.

What was it that Marilas had said about Chakotay's recovery? He had imagined that Marilas was Kathryn, because he'd needed her presence to help him survive. She could understand that now that she'd been through a similar experience. She'd listened for his voice, looked for him, each time she'd regained consciousness. But, when he was well, he'd had to carry on alone, and while that wasn't her fault, Kathryn regretted not being there for him. And she was sorry that she couldn't take him with her when she returned to the Federation. At least, not yet.

Kathryn couldn't help but wonder if Marilas had an ulterior motive in asking Chakotay to go to the line camp during the final days of her recovery. Perhaps she wanted to provide them with the opportunity for a "few days of togetherness" before Kathryn left. She should feel irritated with the older woman for meddling in her life, but all she felt was gratitude. She'd promised Marilas that she would tell Chakotay her true feelings, and she had every intention of doing just that.

The line camp would be the perfect location.

to be continued


	13. Line Camp

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: Janeway and Chakotay finally get together and struggle to find a way to have a future together.

Note: This story takes place a few days after The Farm.

Line Camp (A Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

"When you said 'line camp,' I thought it would have a real bathroom, at least." Kathryn Janeway stood outside of the rover and took in what could only be called a "shack," including what looked like a shower in a tiny shed toward the back of the building. She got goose bumps just thinking about taking a shower there. "I said I could do without a bath tub, but I did hope to have indoor facilities."

"I told you we only use this cabin when we come up to the high country to check on the livestock," Chakotay answered as he pulled their bags out of the back of the rover and started toward the cabin. "It's not a 'summer camp' kind of a cabin. Marilas can't afford to put all the amenities in a place that we use two weeks a year."

"But, Chakotay! An outdoor shower? At this altitude, the snow probably didn't melt until yesterday afternoon. It's even colder here than it was on the Toroyan ships." She turned to face him, panic on her face. "Could we replicate a wash tub?"

"With what? There aren't any replicators here."

She groaned. "I'm afraid to ask about the toilet."

"You're going to love the portable potty, once I get it set up. In the meantime there's a one-holer on the other side of the shower." He stepped under the overhang that protected the front of the cabin from the sun and pushed the door open with his foot. "Before you sit down, make sure there aren't any of the spider-looking insects under the seat. They leave a nasty welt."

"Great." She made her way over to the odiferous lean-to and peered inside. "Kathryn, my dear, you've lost your mind."

Chakotay could hear her beating on the seat of the loo, trying to scare away the insects, and smiled in spite of himself. He'd tried to talk her out of coming with him on this springtime ritual, but once she made up her mind, she was impossible to reason with. He'd finally acquiesced, even though he was sure she'd be miserable roughing it in such primitive conditions. She asked to come, and he knew her pride would prevent her from complaining about it.

And, frankly, he'd looked forward to having some time alone with her.

A few minutes later, he heard the door of the outhouse slam and shouted to her, "There's a lounge chair in the trunk. Set it up on the porch and get some rest while I clean out the inside."

"What porch?" She trudged past the corner of the cabin and pulled her down jacket closer around her shoulders, taking in the rest of their cottage. The far end of the cabin had a stone chimney and she could see a huge pile of wood just around the corner, which meant, no doubt, that the only heating available was the fireplace that would fill the room with smoke and ash. There were huge boulders on the roof to keep the tin from blowing away during blizzards and thunderstorms, but only one window in the entire building, most likely making the interior dark and gloomy. She didn't even want to think about the musty smell or the rodents who probably nested wherever they wanted when the shed was empty.

She stopped by the rover and scolded Marilas under her breath. "'The cabin is much better than a tent,' she says. 'You'll have everything you need.' If I suffer a relapse from this 'vacation,' I swear she'll live to regret making this suggestion."

Chakotay emerged from the cabin and started toward the rover for another load of supplies. "The solar panels on the roof seem to have malfunctioned, but there should be enough battery power left to keep our food cold until I can get up there and repair them." He started to pull out a cooler and then noticed that she hadn't moved an inch. "Do you want me to get the lounge chair out for you?"

"Solar panels?" she said, turning to face him with a hopeful look on her face. "Where are they? On the back of the roof?"

"Yeah, just enough to provide some lights inside and a few luxuries. Oh, and I found a good sized bucket in there. We can heat water and you can use it to take a sponge bath, if you want."

She rolled her eyes. "Things are looking up."

"Listen," he chuckled, walking up to her and putting an arm around her shoulders, "if you really want to go back, I can take you back whenever you want, this afternoon or tomorrow. I know this cabin isn't your idea of fun, and, frankly, I'm going to be out during the day for hours at a time while you're stuck here with nothing to do."

"Go back? After the tantrum I threw to make you bring me along? I can't lose face like that, Chakotay." She nestled into his side and glanced around at the stunning scenery. "Besides, it is pretty up here, in a primeval sort of way."

"Relax on the porch and take in the fresh air while I get the rest of the supplies unloaded. We'll have some lunch and then you can decide whether you want to stay."

She nodded and walked to the back of the rover with him, pulling out the lounge chair while he hefted a huge cooler onto his shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, you know. You think I'm just grumpy because I'm tired and that once I have a nap and something to eat, I'll think this place is the bee's knees."

He laughed out loud. "The bee's what?"

"I should be helping you unload all this stuff," she said as she unfolded the chair. Even though she didn't want to admit it, every bone in her back was aching from the rough road they'd covered in the two hour drive from the farm house. "I'm almost well, you know, and I intend to pull my weight."

He answered from inside the cabin, which he'd refused to let her see until he'd finished cleaning it. "I don't mind doing a little extra work. Besides, having you here with me, even for a short while, is payment enough."

"Phhht. I know flattery when I hear it, mister." She leaned back and took in the deep blue sky, puffy clouds, and cool breeze, stifling a yawn. The field in front of her was waving with bright green grass dotted with a multitude of flowers that scented the thin air with perfume. She pulled a blanket up to her shoulders and listened to the birdsong that drifted from the copse of trees just down hill from the cabin. "It's really nice out here, you know. When you get finished, you should join me."

"Good idea. I'll bring our lunch out there." He emerged with a hypospray in his hand. "It's time for your medicine."

"That stuff makes me sleepy," she complained as she tilted her head to give him access to her neck. Almost simultaneous with the hiss of the mechanism, Kathryn felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her.

"Take a nap, then. When you wake up, we'll eat."

Her back felt better once she was stretched out on the chair, and the blanket, warm and soft around her neck, smelled of Chakotay's cologne and Marilas' laundry detergent. The peacefulness of her surroundings and the sedative effects of the medication combined to make her feel comfortable and safe. She smiled at the bawdy tune Chakotay whistled as he worked inside the cabin, the familiar melody taking her back to the first time she'd heard it while at another 'camp' where they'd been alone for nearly six weeks. It was a happy memory, one that always made her smile, and she soon was so relaxed that it was impossible to keep her eyes open.

An hour later, Chakotay carried the lunch tray to the door of the cabin and stood there studying the woman who was sleeping soundly on the lounge chair, taking in the auburn hair that peeked from below her woolen cap, the white skin of her face and hands, the slight body that was enrobed in his blanket.

The last three weeks had been a revelation to him, especially the way they had slipped into their former intimate friendship as if they'd never been apart. He treasured the declaration of love she'd made to him, even though he suspected that she had been too sick to remember saying it. As much as he enjoyed being with her, he also knew that it wouldn't last. She'd leave as soon as she was well enough to do so.

He knew that was this trip was really about her impending departure. She'd received a packet of information through Tom Riker just a few days earlier, and then she'd insisted on coming with him to the line camp for a chance "to get away." It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was trying to find a place and a time to tell him goodbye.

Her blue eyes opened and focused on him. "Chakotay?"

"Time to wake up, sleepyhead." He moved through the doorway as if he'd just arrived there.

"How long have I been asleep?" She asked, pulling herself upright so that the tray would sit across her lap properly.

"Long enough for me to finish my work--maybe an hour. All that's left is getting the solar panels working. I thought maybe you could help me this afternoon?"

"Sure. What are we having?"

"Marilas sent some potato soup and fresh bread. She knew we'd be hard pressed to unpack and get organized in time to fix lunch."

"That was thoughtful of her." They shared their lunch in the weak sunshine. Since Kathryn had dozed most of the way in the rover, they talked about the children who had seen them off that morning, the work he needed to accomplish while at the line camp, everything except the one thing that was foremost on their minds. At last, once they'd finished eating, Kathryn grew quiet. "I guess you know that the message I received from Riker this week was actually from Tuvok."

"I suspected as much." He found it impossible to look at her. "I imagine Starfleet is planning a big parade for your second miraculous return from the dead." When Kathryn sighed at the bitter tone of his comment, he straightened up and gave her an apologetic smile. "That didn't come out the way I meant it to."

"This is a difficult situation for both of us, I imagine." She set the lap tray on the ground beside the chair and turned to face him. "Since you came to me that night in Illinois and told me the truth about why you'd disappeared, my goal has been to prove that you were innocent of all the charges against you. I want you to be able to come home just like the rest of us, and that goal hasn't changed, even if we've discovered a long-term pattern of treachery within Starfleet in the process."

"But that's what makes the problem so difficult. Do you actually think that you can take these people on single-handedly?"

"I plan to find some allies in the process."

"You have no idea what you're up against. How will you know whether you've identified and neutralized every member of Section 31? If even one cell or a single agent survives, they'll consider both of us a threat. We would live in constant fear over what they might do to us or to the people we love."

"Section 31 is an aberration, Chakotay. I'll find them all, no matter how long it takes."

He wanted to argue, but decided that this wasn't the time for pessimism. She'd worked too hard to recover from her illness for him to dampen her spirits now. He glanced up at her, taking in the earnestness of her expression with a pang of anguish. "When do you leave?"

"I have two days of medicine left to take. The doctor said that once I go two or three days without symptoms, then I'll be well enough to return."

"That soon? Four or five days?"

She nodded. "I've asked the Caritas to let me borrow the ship with the upgraded sickbay, so Kazuo can be properly cared for en route. It's small enough for Marci and me to pilot for that distance, and Tuvok will meet us at Starbase 450." She paused, reaching out to take his hand. "My dream was to bring you along, but there's been a glitch in the process."

"Let me guess. Starfleet isn't convinced that I'm innocent."

"Starfleet admits that there were irregularities on Belle Colony, but they aren't convinced that the Maquis ship didn't bring on the final blast, perhaps inadvertently. Thanks to Anorha, I have the evidence to prove that now."

"And what about the fact that there were no victims? Have they managed to avoid that issue, too?"

"I don't understand that part of it, Chakotay. Why didn't someone in Starfleet follow up on the victims' names? It doesn't make sense."

He rolled his eyes. "It makes sense if you realize that they don't want the truth to come out. They'd rather frame a few rebellious Maquis than deal with the hazards of ferreting out a covert branch of Starfleet that dabbles in illegal research and criminal activity."

She glared at him. "I don't believe that for a minute. Once they hear my recording of Anorha's testimony, they'll know that the destruction was not only planned by Section 31 itself, but that no one died that day. They'll have to drop the charges against you."

He pulled his hand out of hers and walked away. "You'll see. They'll come up with something else, some other crime to charge me with." He turned and snapped his fingers. "I know--they'll accuse me of desertion because I left Voyager without permission."

Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. "I won't let them."

"Kathryn, you should just give up and let me go, just as I asked you to so many years ago." He sounded miserable as he turned away from her again. "You can see that I've found a good place for myself here. The work with the Caritas is very satisfying, and I have a real home on the farm, a real family with the sisters and the orphans."

"I do see that. Is this life enough for you? Don't you want to see your Voyager family again?"

"I have everything I need, and I've learned the hard way that I can live without the things that are just 'wants.' I spent seven years on Voyager learning that."

A sudden cold breeze caught their attention, and a common, late afternoon shower sent Chakotay scurrying to fold up the chairs while Kathryn stacked the dishes on the tray and dashed into the cabin. She stopped dead in her tracks. Chakotay squeezed past her and closed the door, leaning the chairs against the wall as he took the tray from her hands.

"Surprised?" he asked her as he headed for the sink.

"Flabbergasted is more like it." Her eyes looked over the cozy room, taking in the stone fireplace with a futon on either side, the small galley and kitchenette, and the indoor bathroom that was wedged into the far corner and included a small, but very sufficient antique metal bath tub. "You did all this while I was taking a nap?"

"I'm not that good. When I realized that you were determined to come along, I sent the high schoolers up here in the afternoons to get things cleaned up and organized. They needed some service hours for their graduation, and doing this filled the bill. Chet and Ray Borland scrounged up the bathtub somewhere and beamed it down this morning. There's a screen we can set up to give you a little privacy when you need it."

"I was expecting to sleep on the floor, to tell the truth. But those futons actually look comfortable."

"They are. I made sure of that."

She crossed the room and gave him a hug of appreciation. "You're too good to me, Chakotay."

"I want you to come back someday."

She wilted slightly, but kept her arms around him. "You don't think I can arrange for your safe return?"

"Let's put it this way, covert groups like this can really permeate an organization. I hope I've exaggerated the extent of the problem, but I don't think so."

"I think you have. I believe that this Section 31 is a very small aberration that will crumble under public scrutiny."

"The fate of a single Maquis is hardly important enough to bring down a powerful group like that."

"I happen to know that you aren't the only one who was victimized in the Belle Colony fiasco." She pulled away and walked toward the fireplace, thinking of Ramon Cabrera and the crew of the Coquille, all of them victims of Section 31's ruthlessness. "I'm willing to guess that these criminals were into plenty of shady operations, and that there are many other victims out there who need to have justice done."

"Report what you know to the authorities, Kathryn, and let them do their jobs. There's no reason for you to put your life on the line by sticking your nose into things."

"For the other incidents, I will, but I have a vested interest in getting to the truth about Belle Colony. Besides, you make it sound as if every other Starfleet officer I meet will be out to get me."

"I'm just saying that you can't assume that someone is okay simply because they wear the uniform."

Kathryn frowned, but couldn't really disagree with him. Her fury at Captain Ransom of the Equinox had come from his failure to live up to Starfleet principles, and that experience had almost destroyed her command and her relationship with Chakotay. "I'll be careful, and I won't do any more of this on my own. I have the members of Voyager's crew to depend on and a core of trusted friends in the ranks who will lend a hand." She sat down on the futon with a sigh. "I'm more concerned about when I'll see you again."

"You can come see me right here whenever you want to." He finished cleaning up the dishes and put them away in silence, the heat of Kathryn's angry glare warming his back.

"What are you saying? Don't you want to see our crew again? B'Elanna and Tom, and their baby? Harry and Seven and Tuvok and the doctor? Not to mention the Maquis?

"We don't always get what we want, Kathryn."

"So that's it? You just give up? Just like that?" She flopped back on the sofa in despair. "Don't you care about the people at home?"

It seemed that in the time it took her to blink her eyes, he was across the room and sitting down beside her on the sofa. "Do I care?" He was shaking with barely restrained rage. "How dare you ask that question? Why do you think I left the way I did? Why do you think I've given up my name and gone into voluntary exile? I left because I care about you and am trying to keep you and the others from being pulled into this Belle Colony mess. And what do you do? You plow right into it even though I asked you not to and practically get yourself killed in the process."

In spite of his angry words, Kathryn stayed calm and let her memory take her to an icy tent on Antarctica and another man who had reminded her so much of Chakotay. Ramon Cabrera had been forced to go into hiding to survive following his exposure to the Belle Colony episode, and he was just as reluctant to come out of hiding as Chakotay because of the ruthlessness of those who were in Section 31. She remembered his words of warning, "You simply don't understand the peril your actions have put you in," and reminded herself that Chakotay was saying the same thing.

"Maybe I am underestimating the danger," she said softly, reaching to take his hand. "I get fixated on what I want to do, and you know how I can be when I make up my mind."

"Obstinate? Inflexible? Pig-headed?" He took her hand in both of his and smiled at her.

"You don't have to be so descriptive." She smiled, too, and the tension between them evaporated. "I'm in a unique situation here, Chakotay. I can try to do something to fix the damage that's been done by Section 31, and I'm determined to try." She reached out and touched his face. "You see, what it comes down to is this--I don't want to live my life without you."

He covered her hand with his, pressing her palm into his cheek. "I wish to God it was possible for us to be together."

"There has to be a way, Chakotay." Tears welled up and spilled from her eyes. "I'm not ready to give up yet."

"Then we won't." He pulled her closer and put his arms around her. The rain had brought with it a cold wind, so she moved closer and snuggled into him seeking warmth and comfort. She had told him everything she could remember about the crew's whereabouts since his disappearance, but there was one question he'd been waiting to ask. "You said that the crew has helped you try to solve the mystery of Belle Colony."

She nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. "They're willing to do whatever I ask them to do."

"Hasn't anyone tried to talk some sense into you?"

"Sense?" She looked up at him in surprise. "What makes more sense than proving you aren't guilty, Chakotay? Why should you be punished for something you didn't do?"

"Tuvok hasn't warned you that looking into this situation might alienate the wrong people? Admiral Paris hasn't counseled you about being so obsessed over one person's future that you're damaging your own career?"

"They know better, Chakotay. They know I won't quit, and I'm pretty sure they know why, even if they never come right out and say so." She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing with affection. "It must be glaringly obvious to everyone that I'm in love with you."

He drew a quick breath of surprise. "Obvious?"

"Chakotay! I told you that I love you weeks ago. Don't you remember?"

"I thought you were delirious with fever. Or maybe momentarily out of touch with reality."

"Well, I'm all better now." She drew closer, so close that he could feel her warm breath caress his face, her voice a whisper. "Love's like that, isn't it? Delirium? Temporary insanity? What do the Vulcan's call it? Wild ecstasy?"

Chakotay could feel his heart pounding as she tilted her head slightly and touched his lips with her own. His body flooded with warmth as it responded to her kiss, and he struggled to keep his wits about him in spite of his desire to push her down on the futon and cover her body with his own. Before he completely lost control, he whispered, "Hold on."

She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes troubled. "Is something wrong?"

"I think I'm hallucinating. Who are you? And what have you done with Kathryn Janeway?"

Her familiar crooked grin instantly appeared, and she chuckled as she ran a thumb across his lower lip. Her eyes were sparkling with happiness and excitement as she closed in for a second, more passionate kiss. "Chakotay, for the first time since we met nine years ago, this is the real me."

"Finally," he sighed as he surrendered to her advances, "the real you."

* * *

On Starbase 450, Commander Tuvok tried for the fourth time to access his mail site. If he'd been human, he would have blurted out a string of expletives. Instead, he simply ran a quick diagnostic and found an unusual document blocking the system.

He considered whether to delete it, but then thought better of it. Starfleet security personnel never assumed anything—neither that the document was a random error nor that it was unimportant. In fact, he thought it might very well be a communiqué from Admiral Janeway herself. He downloaded the document onto a PADD for further study, sitting back in his chair to take a closer look.

He was confronted with two series of numbers. The pattern of the first series suggested space coordinates, so he called up a navigation program and typed them into it. When he received a location on the far side of the Gamma Quadrant, he shook his head and took a second look. Backwards, the location was on the galaxy's rim. Another error. When he ran the first and third of the three numbers backward and left the second as it was, he received a location inside Federation space, a star system quite close to the Badlands, in fact.

What he needed was the exact time to know exactly what would be located at those coordinates, so he studied the second seven-digit number, assuming it would be a star date. He picked up a tricorder and had it run the seven numbers through any star date that contained those digits and show where the Tevlik coordinates would be for those dates.

In three months' time, on star date 59063.05, the coordinates fell precisely on the Tevlik moon where the Cardassians had massacred the Maquis during the Dominion War.

"Curious," Tuvok said to himself as he deleted the document from the folder. He knew that he'd received an important message, but he had no idea who it was from.

* * *

Three weeks later, a much healthier, but still frail Kathryn Janeway studied her image in the full-length mirror in Marilas' bedroom at the farmhouse. She frowned at the drab colors of the Starfleet uniform and fiddled with the admiral's bar, still missing the row of four pips that had gleamed on her collar for so many years; no matter how much it hurt, change, she reminded herself, is an inevitable part of life.

"You look wonderful, Admiral." Chakotay grinned from the doorway.

"I do not look wonderful," she disagreed, looking at his reflection. "I'm too thin, too pale, and these uniforms are as ugly as homemade sin."

"I guess I'm blinded by love." He walked into the room and stood behind her, looking at their reflections over her shoulder. "I think you're beautiful."

"You're biased." She leaned back against his chest as he slipped his arms around her waist.

"You bet I am." He burrowed through her hair and nuzzled her ear. He felt her shiver as his warm breath touched her neck. "The packet Riker brought with him was from Tuvok, wasn't it?"

"Um-hmmm," she sighed, closing her eyes. "Admiral Hayes has agreed to give the Belle Colony case a further review, in light of the new information that has become available. It's too bad that Anorha is dead, because it would help if he could interview her personally."

"Good thing you have your interview of her to show him."

"Tuvok thinks that in six months or so, Chakotay might be able to come back from the dead."

He chuckled. "Good. I've missed that guy."

"Not as much as I have." She turned in his embrace and touched his left temple. "I also miss the tattoo. Are you going to have it redone?"

"Eventually, I suppose, although I've discovered that an easily recognizable mark like that isn't always such a good idea."

She lifted her face to his for a lingering kiss. "I don't want to leave."

"And I don't want you to go, but we've been over this a dozen times."

She held her cheek against his, drinking in the familiar aroma of his cologne and feeling the scratch of his late afternoon beard. "Wherever we end up, let's have a little place like the line camp as a vacation home, okay?"

"That's a great idea. Only, let's get a bigger bathtub."

"Point taken."

"Admiral?" Marci Brooks, also in uniform, appeared briefly at the door only to step back and look away, embarrassed to have interrupted their embrace. "Ray Borland says he's ready to go when you are."

Kathryn grinned at Marci's discreet withdrawal. "Thanks, Marci. We'll be along in a minute." She looked up at him, a sad smile on her face. "I don't think I will ever finish telling you goodbye."

"It's not goodbye, Kathryn. This is just a temporary separation."

"I keep telling myself that." She stepped back, checked her hair in the mirror, and led him from the room.

As Chakotay followed her down the stairs and out of the house, he thought back to that morning at the line camp, their last morning together for the foreseeable future. Even though he had watched the transformation occur, he had difficulty believing that this immaculately dressed and emotionally controlled Star Fleet admiral was the same disheveled Kathryn who had been snoring softly in his arms at dawn. As they stepped onto the lawn, he could see the same bewilderment in the eyes of the children who had gathered to give her a proper send-off.

"Kathryn," Marilas said as she walked toward them, "or should I say admiral?"

"Kathryn, of course," she answered, giving the older woman a smile as she took in the circling children. "What's all this?"

"Most of them have something for you to take with them, to remember them by."

"As if I could forget them." Kathryn knelt down to hug the smaller orphans and look them in the eye as they presented her with their hand-made treasures. It was obvious that the children loved her and that she enjoyed being around them, so Chakotay stepped back and watched her interact with them, a feeling of dread filling his heart.

His mind traveled back to the last two weeks of her stay. He hadn't been surprised when her illness required a final round of medicine, giving them much-needed time to be together at the line camp and solidify their growing commitment to each other. She had slept most of the time while he was gone to do his chores so that she could spend time with him in the late afternoons and evenings. They went for long walks along the fences, enjoyed lingering dinners in front of the fire, and shared precious moments of intimacy in the privacy of what Kathryn called their "honeymoon hideaway."

Her health had steadily improved, and both of them had known that she would soon be leaving to return to the Federation, but they had ignored discussing that inevitability until the very last minute--the night before her departure.

_They lay on the futons that had been pushed together in front of the embers of the evening's fire, snuggling under the down comforter as the encroaching chill of night blew down on them from the hills. In early spring, the sun was warm only when it touched their skin. Once it slipped behind the hills, the cabin returned to the damp cold of winter. _

_Kathryn curled against his side, staring out the window at the moonrise, when she finally broached the subject. "As much as I would love to have you come back with me, I know it's too soon. We'll have to wait until the issue of your warrant has been put to rest." _

_"I'm a patient man." _

_She snorted. "You might be patient, but I'm not." _

_"You aren't?" He laughed when she punched him softly on the chest. "How long do you think it will take?" _

_"Although I'd love to take on all of Section 31 right away, I'm going to focus on Belle Colony first. I'd like to think that Starfleet will take care of the problem as soon as it's made public, but, for now, I just want you to come home as soon as possible." _

_He was quiet a few moments, stroking the bare arm she had flung across his chest. "This could be our home," he suggested. _

_"It might have to be, if I can't convince them to reopen your case." _

_He laughed at the thought. "As if you would ever leave Starfleet or the Federation." _

_"I could get myself posted to Starbase 450 again. I certainly have special insight into the Union/Toroyan War since my escapades here." _

_"That might work, except that we couldn't be together all the time." _

_"True, but as an interim measure, it could work for awhile." _

_"Are you having second thoughts about being able to exonerate me?" _

_She sighed. "It's not that. It's just that I have to believe that this will be a brief separation or I'll never be able to make myself leave." _

_He pulled her close and ignored his own doubts and worries as he tried to encourage her. "I've waited too long for you to let you get away without a fight." _

_"I feel the same way." She stretched out beneath him and smiled at the way his eyes darkened with arousal. "I have dreamt of just this--snuggling with you in front of a fireplace, unburdened by responsibility and finally able to act on my feelings. But I can't settle for a few weeks here and there with a promise of more when we can find the time." She paused to kiss him. "I want it all." _

Chakotay suddenly became aware of Kathryn standing in front of him with a bemused look on her face. "Janeway to Tyee! A penny for your thoughts."

He blushed and ducked his head. "Not in front of the children."

"I wish you could just show me!" she laughed giving him a brilliant smile. She had an armful of gifts that she was struggling to carry, so he quickly opened the satchel he'd brought with them from the house and helped her put them there. That done, she looked up at him with tears filling her eyes. "Walk with me to the beam out site?"

"Of course." They walked in silence toward the location behind the barn that the Caritas usually used as the transporter site. The more isolated location allowed Chakotay to come and go at times that might otherwise be awkward at the orphanage, and also avoided upsetting many of the younger children who were often frightened when people disappeared into thin air. Now, both Kathryn and Chakotay were glad to have a few last moments of privacy before they parted.

Chakotay shifted the awkward satchel so he could take her hand. "Kathryn, I owe you an apology, you know."

"You do?" she glanced at him, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Were you daydreaming about another woman back there?"

"Not in a million years. I should apologize for leaving Voyager like I did. I think you were right; I should have stayed and faced the music the way you suggested."

"I'm not so sure about that. After all we've been through since then, I'm thinking that the only way you could have survived was to get away the way you did. I think it might be a good thing that they think you're dead. These people will stop at nothing, including murder, to keep their crimes from being made public."

He nodded, gratified that his ploy had worked. "And you'll remember that as you go about confronting them when you get back. Right?"

"How do you do that?" she chuckled, giving his hand an appreciative squeeze. "If you'd lectured me about the possible trouble I'm about to cause myself, I would've ignored you, but now you have me lecturing you about it."

"Let's just say I know how you think and leave it at that." When they arrived at the site, Chakotay placed the satchel at her feet and then put his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging her tense muscles. "You'll keep in touch."

"I'll send messages to Tom Riker through the same method Tuvok has been using." She smiled up at him and then glanced away as tears spilled from her eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry."

Pulling her into his arms, Chakotay kept an iron grip on his own tears until she gradually regained control of her emotions. "Your return is going to be big news, Kathryn. I imagine we'll even hear about it way out here."

"Yeah. I'm tempted to say, 'The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.'" She shook her head. "My poor family. I owe them one for putting them through this ordeal for a second time."

"I think they'll forgive you. The important thing is that you're alive."

She gave him a lingering kiss and then stepped back, wiping the tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. "What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

"I have to go back to the line camp and straighten up the mess we left, and then I'm sure I'll be busy here on the farm getting the spring planting done and taking care of the new calves." He took her hands in his. "If I have time, I'll do some work for the Caritas. I like doing that. But, mostly, I'll be waiting for the chance to see you again."

They stood there gazing at each other for several long moments before Kathryn said, "I guess it's time."

"I guess so." He dropped her hands and gave her a sad smile. "See you in six months."

She nodded and tapped her commbadge, never taking her eyes from his face. "Janeway to Caritas vessel. One to beam up."

To be continued


	14. Gathering Storm

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: Janeway struggles to get her hands on the evidence she needs to convince Starfleet that Chakotay is innocent, while her enemies take steps to eliminate the problem (and the people causing the problem) once and for all.

Note: This story begins 2 months after Line Camp.

Gathering Storm (A Belle Colony Story)

by mizvoy

"I was better off 'dead.'" Kathryn Janeway stood looking out of Admiral Paris's office window, her hands gripped behind her back as she struggled to keep her temper. "Here it is November, and not a damned thing has changed."

"Now, Kathryn. It isn't as bad as that. The admiralty has taken your report about Anorha under advisement, that's all. They aren't finished with it."

"It's been two months, sir."

"And they've admitted that Belle Colony was researching ways to defend against phased cloaks. That's a start. They've even implied that it was staffed by alien personnel."

"'Implied'? Frankly, sir, that isn't good enough." She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "They were building and testing the cloak there, sir, not researching 'how to defend against it.' The woman who told me the truth about Belle Colony betrayed her country to do so. There's more at stake here than either of us realizes."

"Some things can't be made public, Kathryn. Surely you understand that."

"What harm would be done by admitting that no one died in the dome's implosion?"

Admiral Paris sighed. "It could be a public relations disaster, Kathryn. Think about it. Announcing that there were no deaths would be the same as admitting that they lied."

"It would be the truth! They did lie!"

"There was biomatter in the debris, Kathryn. Have you forgotten that?"

"I've heard that before, sir, and, pardon the language, bullshit." She walked to his desk and put her hands on the surface, leaning toward him until they were practically nose-to-nose. "Nobody even bothered to take a sample of that biomatter for analysis after the accident, and now, the atmosphere has destroyed whatever was there. The 'biomatter' they detected from space could easily have been fruits and vegetables, or replicated as part of the cover-up."

He leaned back in his chair, away from her. "Why would anyone go to that much trouble?"

"To hide an illegal research facility?" She let that thought sink in and stood up. "Besides, we know there was no biomatter, because Anorha had told us that the colony had been evacuated."

"Kathryn, sit down and relax, won't you? I'm convinced." He gestured at the chair in front of his desk, anxious to get his former student to calm down and listen to reason. "Starfleet needs time. Remember that they didn't have the chance to meet Anorha or cross-examine her."

"I cross-examined her, Owen, and it's all recorded for them to see. What would she have to gain from telling a lie?" Janeway sat down heavily in the chair. "She was hours away from death when she made that recording. It was practically a death-bed confession."

He gave her an indulgent smile, trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. "What you've proposed is just too much for some admirals to accept without more proof. A conspiracy? From inside Starfleet?"

She glared at him. "Even the truest believer admits that Section 31 exists, sir. This is just the kind of illegal activity Section 31 would pursue. Remember, Anorha stated that three of those cloaked ships were supposed to be delivered to the Federation."

"An allegation that only serves to undermine everything else she said, Kathryn." Paris laughed at the suggestion. "The idea is preposterous."

She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. "The scientists on Belle Colony were Utavi, Owen, who were evacuated and returned to their own territory so they could continue the cloaking research unimpeded by Federation law. I'm sure they did so with the blessing of whoever was their partner here."

"And they were to repay these covert partners with cloaked ships?" Admiral Paris shook his head. "They're highly illegal, and you know it."

"That's the point! Don't you see? The Utavi finally figured out that their partners couldn't admit to being involved in the research, much less to building illegal ships. What could Section 31 do if the Utavi decided not to hold up their side of the bargain and kept all six ships? Nothing! They couldn't even protest, because they couldn't admit to being involved. So, why not keep all the ships for themselves? Why not get rid of an enemy and a useless partner all in one quick battle?"

Paris paused, thinking about her proposal before he shrugged it off. "Starfleet would never commission the building of ships with phased cloaks, Kathryn, either inside the Federation or outside of it. It's too explosive an issue, especially with things so dicey with the Romulans just now."

"Not Starfleet, Owen. Section 31." Kathryn stopped to think about the Enterprise, still under repair following its near-destruction following Shinzon's coup and subsequent vendetta against Picard. She knew that their enemies were still reeling from the loss of their entire Senate and that their energies were focused inward, toward restoring their government. "I'd think the Romulans are too busy to gripe about anything at the moment."

"They would jump on something like this illegal research, Kathryn, as a way to excuse their own behavior."

She drew circles on the arm of her chair, suddenly thoughtful. "How do these admirals explain the Pegasus? Members of Starfleet were testing a phased cloak on that ship, weren't they? Isn't it curious that my informer used that particular code name when she first contacted me?"

"I admit that it's a remarkable coincidence, but the Pegasus fiasco was years ago. I'm not willing to believe this was a conspiracy simply because someone used the same name."

She stared at him in frustration. "Yet, we knew phased cloaks were being developed by the Romulans, and we had to be worried about that. I know about the Romulan ship that very nearly destroyed itself during testing."

"That's classified." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And it's research they've put aside."

"But someone is going to eventually have it, Sir. How better to 'test our defenses' against them than by building ships and then using our tactics in real maneuvers?"

"I admit that some people might use that line of reasoning as an excuse, but I also doubt that it happened. The attack on Hyperion was a result of Ambassador Tydkt's miscalculations, Kathryn, nothing more. He allowed himself to become too entangled in the on-going war between the Utavi and the Toroyans, and then he was caught in the middle when it came to a head." His demeanor softened. "What's really behind all this is your desire to clear Chakotay's name. Am I right?"

"I wish it were that simple." She rested her head on her fist and gave him a mournful look. "There's so much more at stake than that."

"You think Section 31 still exists, don't you?"

She nodded and sat back in her chair with a sigh. "I'm afraid it does, at least part of it, and I think they'll do anything to keep from being discovered and stopped. They're used to breaking laws with impunity, sir. They want to keep on doing so."

"Including trying to harm someone inside Starfleet?" He shook his head indulgently. "You've been through too much, and now you're seeing threats that don't exist."

"I'm not paranoid, Owen, if that's what you're thinking. It's not wrong to fear a group that's willing to kill people without a second thought."

"Section 31 was eliminated after the Dominion War, Kathryn, and there's nothing to make anyone think that they still exist."

"Can anyone really be sure of that, Owen?"

"I suggest you just put Belle Colony behind you and get on with your life. Despite the rumors I hear now and then, Chakotay hasn't been seen or heard from in months."

Her head snapped up. "Rumors?"

Paris frowned in exasperation. "See how emotionally you react just at the mention of his name? I wish you would just forget about him."

"What are the rumors about Chakotay?" she demanded.

"Many of the admirals think you're hiding information, not coming forth with everything that happened after the attack." Paris toyed with a data chip, deep in thought. "They feel that your report is incomplete."

"Incomplete?" She took a calming breath. If what he said was true, they had nothing concrete to base their suspicions upon. Everyone still believed that Chakotay was dead and gone and were only curious about her delay in returning to the Federation.

"You were gone for a long time, yet your report simply claims you were recovering."

"It's the truth. The Toroyans turned us over to the Caritas who took care of us until we were well enough to come home." She waited, but Paris simply stared at her.

"For six weeks."

"That's right. I very nearly died from the fever I caught, and even after six weeks, Kazuo's health was almost too fragile for travel." She looked him squarely in the eye. "I returned at the earliest opportunity."

"But you didn't report in, even though we were teetering on the brink of war."

"For a long time,I was too sick tothink aboutit. Afterward?" She shrugged. "I was hiding from people who'd tried to assassinate me, sir. Until I could actually come home, I decided not to put the people who were caring for me in danger of being caught in a second attempt."

"So you say. I'm just trying to help you see things from a different perspective." There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "Some in the admiralty think that you've never really accepted Starfleet discipline since your years in the Delta quadrant. Your fixation on Chakotay is a sign of that, as far as they're concerned. They blame his Maquis rebelliousness for bringing this predicament on himself, and they don't think you owe him a thing."

She lowered her head and shielded her eyes from him by rubbing her forehead with her hand, resisting the urge to rage at all of them for their insensitive attitudes. No one understood the bond that had formed between Voyager's command team during their long years of exile, especially since no one had ever seen them together. "I owe him everything, Owen."

"Katie, Katie. He's been gone almost three years. It's time to put some closure on this and move on. Don't you think?"

She longed to tell him that she'd been with Chakotay just two months earlier and that her commitment to him was stronger than it had ever been before. He was constantly on her mind, even showing up in her dreams, and she was counting the days until they could be together again for good. The six month wait they'd agreed to felt more like six years, and she was anxious to move on since Starfleet seemed uninterested in addressing the problem.

She gave him a wistful smile. "Owen, I'm afraid we'll have to agree to disagree on this. It's a matter of principle with me, an obligation that comes from his many years of support on Voyager. He's not guilty, and I'm not going to give up until I clear his name. I owe him that much, and so much more." She stood up and stretched, surprised at the late hour and frustrated by her former mentor's failure to understand her. "I think I'll call it a night."

"All right, Kathryn. I hope you don't take anything I've said personally. I'm just trying to help you understand the mentality of the admiralty on this Belle Colony issue."

"With all due respect, I think I understand it better than you do, sir." She smiled when she saw the look of apprehension on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You know I'm on your side, Kathryn. Always."

"Of course, sir."

She walked toward the transport station lost in thought. For the first time since this fiasco had begun, she wondered what she would do if Chakotay wasn't cleared of the murder charges. Would she take whatever steps were necessary to reveal that the remnants of Section 31 still existed? Would she put her life on the line in order to make Starfleet accept their responsibilities and own up to their mistakes? Did she love him enough to leave her family, Starfleet, and the Federation behind in order to be with him?

She honestly couldn't answer those questions yet. But, she could start looking into her alternatives a little more seriously. She reached up and touched her commbadge.

"Janeway to Tuvok. Are you still in your office?"

* * *

Ramon Cabrera realized that he was being followed as soon as he looked over the roomful of passengers at the transport station and saw a familiar face on the far side of the room. He'd seen the same fellow on his arrival the previous week, again at the computer center the next morning, and twice in the market over the weekend. 

While it was fairly common to come across the same people while traveling, it was against all odds that a person would arrive on the same flight, spend six days in the same city, and then leave for the same destination after spending a short week on the planet. Not only was the man here, waiting to take the same flight to a backwater planet in the Vulcan sector, but he could never quite make eye contact with him. All of it added up to something that made Cabrera's skin crawl.

Cabrera slumped in the chair and feigned sleep so he could look at the man through half-closed eyes. He saw a tall humanoid male, dark headed with an olive complexion, wearing a leather jacket and muddy boots. Over his shoulder, he carried a bag that was much too small for a man who was traveling such distances, and while he seemed to be engrossed by something on a small PADD he cradled in his hands, he frequently scanned the room as if looking for someone.

He also noticed a bulge at the man's belt where a phaser would be holstered. Only security officers were authorized to carry weapons on public transports, and the only reason he would be traveling undercover would be to provide protection for a distinguished traveler or to follow a suspect without being noticed. Cabrera wanted to tell himself that he was being paranoid, but deep down he knew better. There were no celebrities in the waiting room. The man was following him.

He sat up, pretending to awaken, and yawned widely stretching his arms in the air. He offered his seat to a pregnant woman who was standing nearby, picked up his bag and headed toward the hallway that led to the men's room as well as a storage room that had a separate exit from the transport station. He wanted his shadow to think he was using the facilities when he was actually affecting an escape. He noticed that the man looked up in alarm and hastily gathered his belongings as he approached the hallway. His intuition had been right--he was being followed all right

He walked into the short hallway only to have his progress impeded by a man shepherding two small boys out of the bathroom. Groaning with exasperation, he smiled with pretended tolerance at the delay, and then stepped into the darkened storeroom where he leaned against the door in relief as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He crossed the room by using the bar of light beneath the exit door as a guide, opened the door quietly, and slipped through it into the shadows of early evening.

The door hadn't even closed completely when a man's arm encircled his neck and a phaser was shoved into his ribs. He groaned in dismay, realizing that his "tail" had come directly to the exterior door to wait for him. "I was hoping you'd try to sneak out through the storeroom," the man said, his voice oozing with amusement. "You've made this so much easier."

A tall blonde woman stepped out of the shadows. Her voice tinged with an eastern European accent as she said, "Don't you know how dangerous it is to travel alone, Roberto? That is the name you're using these days, right?"

Cabrera stared at her, no longer struggling against his assailant's hold. He recognized her voice. "Sveta?"

"Let him loose," she commanded, and the arm around his neck was withdrawn. "No more of this ridiculous behavior, Roberto. You have an appointment, and, by God, we're going to make sure you keep it. Now, if the two of you hurry, you can still make the flight."

His attacker handed the woman the phaser and steered the stunned Cabrera ahead of him through the storeroom and back down the short hallway. Before they emerged into the waiting room, he said, "Call me Mike. I'm an old friend you just happened to run into and decided to travel with for awhile. And be assured, in case you get any other big ideas, that I'm not alone. Do you want the window or aisle seat?"

"Window, I guess." Cabrera walked back to the waiting room beside the man who had just become his traveling companion, and he realized that his pursuers were not trying to stop him. They were interested in using him as bait for bigger fish. "Who are you? What's this about?"

"Who we are doesn't matter, Roberto. And what it's about is loyalty." His tone made it clear that the discussion was over. They entered the waiting room and found a couple of seats. Mike turned to him with a friendly smile and began a charade that would develop into a real friendship in the next few weeks. "So, my friend, Roberto, what a pleasant surprise to find a traveling companion! Tell me what you've been doing since the last time I saw you."

* * *

Tuvok watched his former captain grow visibly angry as she looked over the series of mysterious communiqués he'd received over the last ten weeks. Each message contained a puzzle that pointed to Tevlik's moon, the location where most of the Maquis had been brutally murdered by the Cardassians during the Dominion War. They also suggested a stardate that was about six weeks in the future. Once she finished reading them, Janeway looked up at the Vulcan with exasperation in her eyes. 

"You've been getting these secret messages for over two months and you're just now bringing them to my attention? Didn't you think I might need to know about them?"

"I wanted to do some research, so that I could give you some idea of their point of origin. I thought they could be someone's idea of a joke."

"And?" She straightened up, putting one hand on her hip. "What did you find out?"

"Whoever has sent these has been very clever in masking his or her whereabouts. I had to enlist the help of Seven of Nine to trace their points of origin, and even then we could only determine a sector, not a specific location." He took the PADD from her, entered some commands, and handed it back. "As you can see, the individual has hardly taken a direct path to the Tevlik system."

She gasped as she looked at the star chart. "The first message comes from near Starbase 450--close to the border where the Caritas operate."

"Indeed." He paused as she returned to the chart. "I immediately thought of some of the loosely organized groups that have escaped prosecution there. You're aware that the refugees who call themselves the Sestwani include many former Federation citizens."

"You mean the surviving Maquis and others sympathetic to their cause." She glanced up at him. Chakotay had told her about a Sestwani woman named Alita who had been in the Maquis and who had managed to keep him informed about events inside the Federation. "I didn't think there were many still around. You're thinking that the person who sent you these messages might have been hiding with the Sestwani?"

"It would be a logical assumption. Who else would start toward Tevlik from this particular location?"

She nodded. "The bad thing is that it's right in the middle of the Badlands." She returned the PADD to him and made her way to the sofa in her sparse quarters, taking a seat and leaning her head back against the cushions until she was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She had a vague tickle of a memory trying to surface, and she knew that relaxing and letting her mind drift would help bring it to the surface. Suddenly she lifted her head to look at the Vulcan. "Cabrera. Maybe he was living with the Sestwani."

"Should I recognize that name?"

She quickly explained how she had met with Ramon Cabrera, Coquille's sole survivor, when her transport beam from San Francisco had been misdirected and she'd reappeared hours later in Australia. "He said the Coquille was chasing a Maquis vessel in the Badlands when it was destroyed by a plasma storm. He survived in an escape pod and then spent the rest of the war in a refugee camp. But he never told me who retrieved the pod or what refuge camp he lived in." She grew thoughtful. "It had to be the Maquis who rescued him, and I'd assumed the camp was Bajoran. But now I'm thinking that he might have ended up in a Sestwani camp."

Predictably, Tuvok was more troubled by her brief kidnapping than he was interested in who might have been responsible for Cabrera's rescue. He listened impassively to her description of her "misdirected transport," but in reality he was furious with her. "Admiral, I'm distressed that you didn't tell me of this 'kidnapping' right away. You have no way of knowing whether this Cabrera was really a member of the Coquille's crew, nor do you know whether he's telling you the truth about what he scanned. If nothing else, he's a deserter who has yet to bring what he knows to the attention of the authorities. You're failure to report this is not only risky, it could result in disciplinary action against you for . . . ."

"Tuvok," she interrupted him, shaking her head in dismay. "Stop being an 'officer of the court' for a minute and help me think this through. Whoever he was, he tried to warn me of the potential dangers I'd face while working with Ambassador Tydkt, and he was right. Before you get on your soapbox, I didn't tell you about Cabrera because that would have put you in danger, too."

Tuvok narrowed his eyes as he carefully repressed the anger that boiled within him. "Admiral, I don't believe that this Cabrera sneaked onto Earth and 'misdirected' your transport beam without detection. He admitted that he used Section 31's own equipment. Isn't it possible that he's working for them?" He waited for her reaction and sighed when she shrugged, instead. "We both know that someone inside Starfleet aided Chakotay in his flight from prosecution. How do you know that Cabrera wasn't part of that scheme, as well?"

She rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I don't know for sure, of course. I haven't dared look into the records to confirm what he told me about Coquille. If what he's said is true, looking into it would probably set off even more alarms."

"I read them, and there was no mention of Coquille in any of the Belle Colony reports."

"In light of what he told me, does that surprise you?" She held up a hand to stop him from arguing. "I know. That doesn't prove that the Coquille was censored from the reports, because we don't know that the Coquille was there, at all. It's in his favor that Cabrera was trying to keep me from doing something rash."

"I could have told him he was wasting his time," he agreed. "Which brings us back to these coded messages. They imply a meeting at this time and place."

She nodded. "We'll be there, of course."

He shook his head emphatically. "I'll be there, Admiral. I should meet this individual alone."

She leaned forward and glared at him. "I'm going with you."

"I think that would be a mistake."

"I would hate to ask your superiors why you didn't report Ramon Cabrera and my misdirected transport to Starfleet when it happened."

Tuvok seemed stunned at her threat. "I could simply explain that I just found about it!"

"They'll believe that, of course." She rolled her eyes. "When I report these mysterious coded messages you've been hiding for the last two months, how will they react? They might decide you're as much to blame for hiding this information as I am." She smiled at his wounded look and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "You need a ship and a minimal crew, and you need to get them without answering a lot of questions. Where else would you go for that but me?"

"I can see that I am, indeed, implicated in this scheme of yours in spite of myself." His eyebrow lifted nearly to his hairline. "Obviously my initial error was in associating with you at all, Admiral."

Janeway laughed heartily and gave his arm a squeeze. "Tuvok, after all these years, it's about time you figured that out!"

* * *

The cold, damp caves of Tevlik Moon were dark except for the light that filtered through holes created by the Cardassian ships' orbital phasers. Little evidence remained of the bustling Maquis camp that had thrived in the caves many years earlier, little, that is, except piles of useless junk and a marker commemorating the dead. The Cardassians had been both efficient and deadly in their elimination of every single Maquis living there, whether male or female, adult or child. Any usable equipment or vessel that they didn't take for their own use was left behind, damaged beyond repair. Their vengeance had been vicious and complete, but then they'd moved on to greener pastures, focusing on the Federation and their allies and leaving the bodies of the dead scattered where they had fallen. 

When news of the massacre had been confirmed, a team of Starfleet personnel made their way to the moon to bury the dead and investigate rumors about a Coquille survivor who had been rescued by the Maquis and had been killed at the caves. Two men from the group, men who were members of the secretive Section 31, had remained behind and had spent weeks painstakingly sifting through the rubble, hoping to determine whether any of it came from the Coquille. Every nook and cranny of the caves had been mapped and scanned, but the end result of their efforts was encouraging and frustrating. They had been able to confirm that a few pieces of the debris came from the Coquille, but they couldn't find enough to support the allegation that an escape pod had been housed there.

The mystery of the events had survived. Had the Maquis recovered a survivor who could testify to the real events at Belle Colony? Did he or she have information on the Belle Colony explosion that might have been hidden on the Coquille? Was this information hidden somewhere in the caves? Or on the moon? Or even on the planet itself? There was no way to tell, and so the team had hedged their bets. If any data was there, chances were good that someday the survivor would return to retrieve it, and so a series of monitoring devices were carefully placed in the caves, on the moon's surface, and even on Tevlik itself to notify Section 31when and if anyone returned to the blasted Maquis base. And, in case the retrieval happened too quickly for direct intervention, a series of bombs were placed there as well.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Duane Chandler sat on the porch of a cabin in the forest preserve north of San Francisco watching the December mist filter its way through the trees. His family was scheduled to join him later in the day for a long weekend of relaxation, so he'd left work early so that he could get the cabin ready for their arrival. At least, that's what he'd told his staff at Starfleet Intelligence. But the truth was that he was also here for a covert meeting with another member of Section 31 regarding a critical situation. 

Chandler heard rather than saw a solitary man beam onto the pathway a few hundred yards inside the forest. The trail that was popular with many Academy professors and cadets who used it for much needed fresh air and exercise, but this man had an ulterior motive. As soon as he materialized, he walked to the cabin where Chandler sat waiting for him.

"Chandler," he said as he stepped onto the porch and took a seat.

"Kagan." Chandler nodded at a PADD on the table between them. "The transmissions have stopped, but not before we were able to detect a pattern in them." The new arrival pushed his coat's hood off of his head and studied the data while Chandler watched him intently, narrowing his eyes when he saw the man react with shock at what he read.

Kagan's voice wavered. "The Tevlik moon."

"Surely you aren't surprised? It's a location that carries great meaning for these people."

"I'd hoped I'd never have to go back there." He glanced at the other man and then looked away, embarrassed by his emotional reaction.

Chandler wasn't surprised, however. Kagan had been Sloan's special pet, especially groomed to do the dirty work for Section 31 from his first days in the organization, and he'd done well until they'd been sent to do the cleanup of the massacre of the Maquis on Tevlik Moon. Chandler was also haunted by the memories of the families they'd buried, including tiny infants and children, but he was sure that Kagan must have something in his past that made the process even more difficult. The cracks in Kagan's composure had started on Tevlik moon, but had become even more problematic during the Dominion War.

If Chandler had any other choice, he would never expose Kagan to this environment again. But, Kagan was the only other agent who was aware of what had happened following the Belle Colony disaster, and Chandler felt that he had no choice but to use him. It was important to limit the contamination of the project, and so he hoped Kagan would remain stable until they found a brought it to a final resolution.

"I know it's tough, Kagan" he sympathized, deciding to acknowledge the man's reluctance. "It's tough on all of us who went through that cleanup. I'm not exactly thrilled by the prospect of returning to the moon, either, but the repeated date in January has got to be a rendezvous, and we have to be there to make sure the damage is contained."

"You said that the transmissions have stopped?" Kagan's voice was hopeful. "Couldn't that mean that the rendezvous won't happen?"

"I think it more likely means that the message was received, and so no further messages were required. After all, they'd sent six transmissions, exactly two weeks apart. Besides, we can't take the risk. We have to be there."

Kagan finally looked at him, the dread clearly visible in his expression. "Is there any way to tell where the messages originated?"

"Believe me, we've tried, but they're impossible to trace."

Kagan snorted. "You must be kidding. To do that, they'd have to subvert our tracking system." He stiffened as he realized what he'd said and remembered the one person who'd been amazingly successful in doing just that--using Section 31's own technology against them. "Not Cabrera?"

"Who else but Cabrera? But he's on the move, and, to make it worse, each transmission arrived on a carrier wave in Tuvok's private mail."

"Why Tuvok? Why not the admiral's mail?"

"I asked the same question. All I can think of is that Cabrera, like the rest of us, must have thought Janeway was dead. The date of the first message is a couple of weeks before her miraculous reappearance."

"Makes sense." The rain had become more intense, and the temperature had dropped significantly, but Kagan knew their meeting would not move indoors nor would he fail to make his hike. If anyone noticed him, he could simply say he'd waited out the worst of the rain on the porch. There could be no connection made between himself and Chandler. "So, if the Maquis took Cabrera to the moon base after the Coquille was destroyed, he might have hidden the scans there and intend to give them to Tuvok?"

"Kagan, we both know the data wasn't on the moon. We went through those caves inch by inch. I'm thinking he must be bringing the data with him."

"Maybe." Kagan shivered as the breeze picked up. "We should've tracked him down after Coquille was destroyed, as soon as we heard rumors that there had been a survivor."

"Hindsight is 20/20." Chandler picked up a scanner and checked the vicinity for strangers, making sure they weren't being observed. "You forget how thin we were spread back in '74."

"Not as thin as we are now."

"Well, no. But the climate will change. When a new threat to the Federation appears, the tolerance for Section 31 will return in full force. Fear does that to people." He put the scanner down with a sigh, thinking of the inadequate resources they had to use, even for something as critical as this meeting. He'd be lucky to acquire a shuttle and a second ship to take care of the situation. They would have to plan the confrontation carefully, making maximum use of the element of surprise.

Kagan's face darkened with worry. "The war was a terrible time. We couldn't take the time to find Cabrera because we were trying to stay alive ourselves."

"You know, I've been thinking. If Cabrera has a copy of the Colony scans, why would he hide for ten years without making a move to reveal what he knows? We left him alone because we were convinced that he didn't have any proof."

Kagan frowned. "I always thought he had proof. They found three copies of his covert scans hidden on the Coquille, and I thought the chances were good that they missed one."

"And that's why we kept Coquille out there."

"In harm's way," Kagan muttered, obviously unhappy.

"The ship wasn't left out there to be destroyed, Kagan. We were hoping it would be damaged enough to justify impounding it for a more complete search."

"Sure. You can say that now." Kagan ran a hand over his face. "But we both know that the easier solution was to have the ship and crew destroyed in the line of duty."

"Well, don't feel guilty about it, Kagan. It wasn't your decision, anyway."

He shrugged, sinking back in the chair. "The crew was always going to be a liability to the security of the cloak project. If they'd lived, they would probably have been followed, maybe even drummed out of the service."

"You have a point," Chandler agreed. "And, if the crew had been allowed to contact home, their families would be just as much of a liability as anyone else." He grew thoughtful. "I wonder if the Maquis knew that Cabrera was a threat to their safety when they rescued him."

"If they didn't know, Cabrera did. We should've thought of the Sestwani refugee camps. A small team could have worked through those quickly."

"The Sestwani were way out of our sphere of influence at the time, Kagan. Why would we even think of them?" He shook his head in despair. "The real shame is that he wasn't still on the moon when the Cardies found out where the Maquis camp was hidden. If he'd been killed with the rest of them, our problems would be over."

"What did you say? 'When the Cardies found out?' Chandler, you know as well as I do that Sloan told them where the base was located."

"That's only rumor," he disagreed, thinking that a man with a conscience like Kagan's should never serve in Section 31. "There are so many 'ifs' to this whole mess. 'If' Coquille's captain had followed orders and chased the Maquis instead of going to help the colonists. 'If' Chakotay had been killed during his exile to the Delta Quadrant. 'If' any admiral but Janeway had been caught up in this intrigue. 'If' the Union had focused on eliminating Janeway as we'd asked them to do instead of trying to assassinate the Toroyan leadership at the same time."

Kagan shook his head. "Bad luck, pure and simple. So we're going to be on the moon in January."

"Of course," Chandler replied, standing up and stretching, his joints stiff from the damp cold. "If we plan things right, I think we can take care of it ourselves. Chakotay is dead, so if we can get Cabrera, we'll be safe at last."

"Any chance that the admiral will be there, too?" Kagan wondered, suddenly hopeful that this awful muddle was almost over.

"I'd be surprised if she didn't come." He thought about the meeting. Cabrera. Janeway. Tuvok. Probably a few of her crew sprinkled in. "We'll have to be ready for anything."

Kagan stood, as well, perching on the edge of the porch just out of the rain, his back to Chandler as he put on his gloves. "If we could either destroy the last copy of the scans or make sure they never existed, and eliminate Janeway and Cabrera at the same time . . . ."

"That's just more 'ifs,' my friend. Let's not count our chickens."

"I'll be waiting for my orders," Kagan said as he pulled his hood over his head and started down the path into the woods. He had five kilometers to hike to his beam out site.

Chandler watched his partner stride into the forest, and then he went into the cold, dark cabin. As he prepared for the arrival of his wife and children, starting the furnace and loading food into the chiller, he thought about what needed to be done. Two of his three problems seemed to be working at counter purposes.

He needed to find out for sure whether Cabrera still had a copy of the Belle Colony scans. The only way to confirm that was to allow Cabrera access to the moon where the information was likely to be turned over to the Starfleet officers meeting him. But he also needed to eliminate the people who were so tenacious about looking into the Belle Colony destruction--Cabrera, Janeway, and her loyal crew. That problem was much more difficult to handle, since he could ill afford to murder a Starfleet admiral.

The third problem was the persistent rumor that Chakotay had survived the brutality of the dilithium mines. He was beginning to believe that both Chakotay and Janeway had charmed lives, for their every attempt to eliminate the pair had met with failure. But, there were several weeks until this meeting on the moon, and he had resources still available to him both in the Federation and in the region of space occupied by the Caritas. He smiled to himself and quickly placed a few encrypted calls.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway stood on the sidewalk across the street from her apartment building and watched the firefighters struggle to bring the flames under control. The heat of the inferno was warm on her face and kept her from shivering in the early morning chill of New Year's Day. She glanced at the security officer standing next to her. 

"Were there any casualties?"

"A couple of people were injured by debris falling on them in the street," he replied, his face a crimson red in the reflected firelight, "but apparently all the residents are off- planet on vacation--except for you." He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's lucky you weren't home, Admiral."

Janeway shivered at the thought. "I'd planned to be at home, but my friends insisted that I stay overnight after their New Year's Eve party. Was it an accident?"

The officer shook his head. "We think whoever did this was after the previous occupant of your apartment. He was a Romulan diplomat, and he had a lot of enemies."

Janeway stepped back as a secondary explosion rocked the building. "So it was a bomb?"

"Yes, ma'am. And a pretty powerful one, if I'm any judge of it." There was a sudden shout from the street as the firefighters gave up on their efforts and pulled back. Moments later, as the three-story edifice crumbled in on itself, the security officer pulled Janeway behind a piece of emergency equipment for protection from flying debris. "Do you have somewhere else to stay, Admiral?"

She nodded, checking the time. "It won't be long until dawn. I'll go to my office and make some arrangements. There should be plenty of room at the BOQ this time of year."

"I can give you a lift," he offered. "I have to go over and make a report to Starfleet, since the building housed you and several other high-ranking officers."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. My ride's waiting for me just a block or two away."

"I'm sorry this has happened, ma'am, but at least you weren't home."

"Thank God no one was injured." She studied the rubble of her former home and then thanked him for his help before she headed for Tom Paris' auto.

"Looks like a total loss," she told him as she climbed in. "I'm sure glad I never bothered to unpack any of my mementoes."

"And I'm glad B'Elanna talked you into staying with us tonight. There's no way anyone could've survived a fire that intense."

"They think it was probably bomb."

Tom drove toward Starfleet headquarters, carefully navigating past the emergency equipment. "A bomb? In the middle of San Francisco?"

"The security officer said that one of the previous residents was a Romulan with a lot of enemies. He was supposedly the target."

"What do you mean, 'supposedly'?"

She pushed the hood of her coat off her head and studied the horizon, noticing that the sky was beginning to turn pale as dawn approached. "I've had too many close calls lately to think for a minute that I wasn't the bomber's target."

Tom stared at her a moment and then pulled up to the front gates of Starfleet Headquarters where they showed their identification and then drove toward her office building. "Kathryn, you're scaring me."

"You should be scared, Tom. It isn't safe to be anywhere near me." She laughed, even though there was no humor in her eyes. "If you don't mind, just leave me at my office. I might as well call Tuvok before he hears about this over the news reports."

"Yeah, I'm thinking something a bombing would be enough to make a Vulcan panic." The odor from the fire was still in the air when he pulled into the parking lot. "You're welcome to stay with us until you can find a new place of your own, you know."

"I appreciate the offer, Tom, but I wouldn't think of putting you and your family in harm's way—and especially not Miral. I'll get some temporary quarters for now."

"This time, on Starfleet property, I hope."

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm not sure where I live will make any difference, Tom."

"Well, be careful, okay? And keep us posted?"

"I will, Tom. Thanks for everything."

When she arrived at her office, she wasn't surprised to find a half-dozen messages waiting for her from people who had already heard about the bombing. She contacted her mother and sister to let them know she was alive and well, but then she ignored the other messages in favor of an active call that had just arrived from Vulcan. Tuvok, of course.

"So," she said when her friend's face appeared on the view screen, "you've already heard about the bombing?"

"The bombing? There's been a bombing?" The only visible sign of surprise on his face was an arched eyebrow.

She quickly related the evening's events, including her impromptu decision to stay with Tom and B'Elanna once their New Year's Eve party ended, a decision that had apparently saved her life. She repeated the security officer's speculation that the intended victim had been the previous resident, an unpopular Romulan diplomat.

"I find that highly unlikely," Tuvok disagreed. "You've been living there for the last four months, and I happen to know that the previous resident is in a prison on Romulus, serving a long sentence for influence peddling."

She nodded and sipped the coffee she'd replicated, grateful for the warm liquid and the caffeine. "I thought as much. The bomb was intended for me."

"Undoubtedly."

She studied his face, realizing for the first time that he must have been calling her for a completely unrelated reason. "If you hadn't heard about the bombing, then why were you calling me? What's happened?"

"I received a message from Tom Riker," he began, pausing to confirm that their connection was encrypted. "He had some troubling news. You stayed at an orphanage during your recent recovery, correct?"

Janeway felt weak with apprehension. "You know I did."

"The orphanage was attacked by a group of men who were searching for a man called Tyee."

Janeway blinked in surprise. Had Section 31 made the connection between Tyee and Chakotay? If they'd figured out that Chakotay was alive, would they hesitate to find him and kill him? When she was able to speak, she asked, "Was he there?"

"Apparently not. Tom Riker said that he had decided to 'hire out' as the Caritas often do."

This news surprised her. Although Chakotay had mentioned leaving the orphanage as a possibility, she'd received a short note from him every few weeks, and he'd said nothing about hiring out the near future. Was it possible that he'd left just before the attack? "What did they do when they discovered Tyee was gone?"

"Riker said that they threatened the children in an effort to get information on his whereabouts, but when they realized that neither the adults nor the children had any relevant information, the attackers herded them into the yard and then burned the house and barn right in front of their eyes."

Janeway closed her eyes in grief, imagining how awful it must have been for those traumatized children to watch their new home and security go up in flames. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No one from the orphanage." He paused, using the time to carefully choose his words. He'd learned that disturbing news had to be presented to humans with a certain degree of finesse, or they would not remain open to continuing conversation. "The woman who runs the orphanage had informed the Caritas of the attack, and they arrived to assist the orphans."

Janeway frowned. "The Caritas are not equipped for that kind of confrontation, Tuvok."

"They did what they could. They suffered two casualties in the course of the fight. One man was killed and a woman was critically injured."

"Who?" She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Who was killed? Who was injured?"

"Just a moment." Tuvok consulted a PADD. "Chet Borland was killed, and Ro Laren was injured, but she's expected to recover. There were other minor injuries among the Caritas, but nothing worse than a broken arm or concussion."

"And the attackers?"

"They escaped."

Distraught, Janeway covered her mouth with her hand. She'd told Tom that no one was safe in her presence or Chakotay's, but all the humor had gone out of that quip. They truly were a threat to everyone they knew and loved. "When will this end, Tuvok? How can we make them stop?"

"There's more," he answered. "Riker said the attackers escaped in a ship that was equipped with a phased cloak."

"A phased cloak?" Her head snapped up. "Unionists? Were the attackers Utavi?"

"Apparently so."

For a moment, Janeway was frozen in her chair, but then the next moment she found it impossible to sit still. Without a word of explanation, she left her desk and began to pace as she tried to grasp the full implications of what had happened.

She was more convinced than ever that Section 31 was behind these attempts on their lives and was both frightened and dismayed to learn that they had apparently continued their alliance with the Utavi. She forced the fear away and tried to think.

Her thoughts went to Marilas, her two elderly sisters, and the orphans, innocent bystanders in a universe gone mad. She imagined them huddled together, watching in horror as their home was burned to the ground; she saw them, terrified, running for cover as the Caritas fought to subdue their attackers. And why? Why were they being terrorized by these bullies? Because they had taken Chakotay into their home when he was nearly dead? Because they had given her a place to restore her health? Because they were kind and helpful to anyone in need?

She fought against the irrational guilt that threatened to strangle her, telling herself that she was no more to blame for what had happened to the orphanage or to the Caritas than Chakotay had been for the destruction of Belle Colony. He'd been lured into the raid and forced to leave Voyager, thinking he was doing the crew a favor by disappearing and distancing them from his own shame. She'd done nothing more culpable than search for the truth. If she gave up now, Section 31 would win much more than this simple battle. They'd be free to practice their evil ways throughout the Federation, and she wasn't about to let that happen. Not by a long shot.

She returned to her chair with new resolve, unsurprised to find Tuvok patiently waiting for her. "I will be seeing you in a few weeks?" she asked him, reminding him of their scheduled meeting on Tevlik's moon.

"I hope so, Admiral. My plans remain unchanged."

"You realize, of course, that we'll probably have company?" She wasn't about to mention Section 31 out loud, not even over an encrypted connection.

"I'm planning on it," he replied, his expression never changing. "We'll have friends with us, and we'll be ready for anything."

"And the meeting ground? You'll inspect it in advance?"

He inclined his head. "As we discussed."

She smiled. "Good. In the meantime, Tuvok, keep in touch."

Once their conversation ended, Janeway worked through the rest of her messages and then sat back to watch the sun appear over the buildings as she finished her third cup of coffee. It was during quiet times like this, private moments of reflection, that she missed Chakotay the most.

She couldn't help but worry about him. Riker said that he'd hired out, and she wondered where he was and whether he was all right. Why would he leave without telling her what he was doing? The most recent attacks gave her a sinking feeling, and she promised herself that she'd contact Riker and follow up on his whereabouts.

She had just made arrangements for temporary quarters when the sound of an incoming priority message caught her attention. She pulled up the screen to see who it was from and was irritated that it was encrypted. Exhausted from the late night and interrupted sleep, she decided to leave it for the next day, assuming that the message had something to do with her most recent work with the Romulan Senate or that it was an update on the investigation into the destruction of her apartment building. She needed a hot shower, a change of clothes, and long nap much more than she needed to get involved in some new complication from work.

Determined to spend the rest of the day getting some rest, Janeway prepared to leave her office. She spent afew minutes straightening up her desk and recycling the rest of her coffee before she grabbed her jacket and turned down the lights. She was almost past her desk when the flashing red light of the message queue caught her eye once again and brought her to a stop.

"How long would it take?" she asked herself as she sat down at the desk and pulled up the message. She secured the doors, propped her feet on her desk, and ordered the computer to access the message. "Recognize Admiral Kathryn Janeway," she said.

"Voiceprint confirmed," the computer replied. "State clearance code."

She laced her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes, blinking against the sandy texture under her eyelids. "Janeway five three four two nine blue. Clearance level ten."

"Access denied."

Her eyes flew open. "Access denied? What the hell . . . ?" She sat up and pulled the screen closer, already regretting her decision to stay instead of leaving this for the next day. Now that her curiosity had been piqued, she wouldn't go until she found out what was wrong. "Computer. Verify clearance code."

"The clearance code stated matches the current Starfleet file for Admiral Kathryn Janeway."

"I thought so," she mumbled, thinking out loud. "Then why doesn't the message open?"

"Insufficient data," the computer answered.

"I wasn't asking you." Janeway studied the screen, pulling up the message's properties and doing a simple scan for routing. "This opening alpha-numeric sequence seems familiar . . . of course. Tuvok's message from Riker!"

She accessed the codes she used to decrypt Chakotay's messages and downloaded the text message onto a PADD. A quick scan told her that all but the last paragraph was the same account of the attack on the orphanage that Tuvok had related to her. The final section, however, made her blood run cold.

Riker wrote, "Part of what I told Tuvok about Tyee was a deliberate fabrication, mainly because I'm afraid his mail is being monitored. The truth is that Tyee left the orphanage a couple of weeks after you did, Kathryn, and that he did so without telling me or any of the Caritas where he was going. In fact, he had Marilas send me the messages I forwarded on to you every couple of weeks just to keep anyone from guessing that he'd left."

Janeway sat up straight in her chair with her heart pounding. If what Tom said was correct, Chakotay had left the orphanage over three months earlier. She struggled to get over the shock the news created and think about where he would have gone and why he would go without telling her. She suspected he was involved in something she wouldn't condone, a bad habit she thought she'd cured while they were on Voyager, and she experienced the usual anger and frustration his unilateral actions produced. Yet, the realization that Marilas had cooperated with him on this subterfuge gave her hope that his departure happened for a logical and necessary purpose.

She sat quietly for a few moments, trying to calm her fears, before she read the rest of Tom's message: "When we realized that he'd disappeared again, we were worried about him and thought we should try to track him down, but Laren suggested that his sudden departure must be part of your plan. We'd feel better if you'd confirm that you know where he is and what he's doing. Could you let us know via a return message?"

"I wish I could, Tom," she answered, experiencing more apprehension than she'd felt as she watched her apartment building burn to the ground. "I wish I knew."

to be continued


	15. Tevlik Moon

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: Kathryn Janeway decides that she must follow through on the covert meeting with the mysterious stranger, even if doing so is a dangerous gamble that puts her life in the balance.

Note: This story begins shortly after "Gathering Storm"

Tevlik Moon (A Belle Colony Story)

by mizvoy

"The caves are mined?" Kathryn Janeway frowned at Tuvok's survey of Tevlik's moon and then looked up at her former security officer in complete disbelief. "Really?"

"Not mines, Admiral. There are a series of explosives placed in strategic locations."

"Why would anyone bother to put explosives in a deserted cave full of graves, broken equipment, and rubble?"

"Answering that question would require sheer speculation on my part," Tuvok replied. "I'm also mystified by the hidden monitoring devices. Nothing of value remains in the caves, so why would someone care whether people visited them?"

"Grave robbers?" At Tuvok's scowl, she continued, with a shrug, "The only answer I can think of is that there is something of value there."

"Or, they believe there's something of value there. From what I could tell, the Starfleet crew that cleaned up following the massacre did a thorough job of sifting through the debris. I can't imagine them leaving anything valuable behind."

"Do you think that Starfleet personnel put the explosives there?"

Tuvok shook his head. "The team's official record makes no mention of it."

"Official record?" Janeway rolled her eyes in amusement. "Do you think Section 31 would record its actions in the official record?"

Unwilling to commit himself without further proof, Tuvok replied, "It's impossible to tell who did the work after all this time. However, except for these items, there's nothing remarkable about the caves. What's most striking, perhaps, is the extent of the damage done by the orbital phasers."

"The Cardassians are nothing if not thorough."

"Indeed."

Janeway returned to the report, switching to the Flyer's scans of the Tevlik system itself. "So you think the area has had visitors lately."

"Yes, although it wasn't apparent at first. The ship's ion trail was difficult to detect until Seven of Nine went through a series of sensor modifications. We believe it visited the area only a day or two before we did."

"Did they visit the caves?"

"No, they didn't. And, unless they departed using the exact vector of their approach, the ship remains nearby."

Janeway looked up in alarm. "Where are they hiding?"

"Impossible to tell. Remember that the Tevlik system is in the middle of the Badlands, Admiral. There are any number of excellent hiding places available in the region."

"Damn." She stood up and began to pace from one side of the scout ship's tiny ready room to the other. "It can't be a coincidence that the ship arrived at this particular time. And they had to see the Delta Flyer enter the system."

"I assume that they noticed our arrival and monitored our reconnaissance mission." He paused. "It's possible that this ship carries the people we're supposed to meet."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Do you really think so?"

"While it's possible, I don't believe so. For one thing, they failed to make their presence known while the Delta Flyer was in the area. Maybe they're people who've gotten wind of our visit to the moon and are curious about your request to take certain members of the Maquis to the caves for a memorial ceremony." He watched as she made several circuits in front of the desk. "After all, we returned from the Delta Quadrant nearly three years ago and are only now visiting the moon."

"I don't think they're from the tabloids, Tuvok, if that's what you're implying." She faced him, her hands on her hips. "We have to assume that these people are here for less than respectable reasons and prepare for the worst. Since they could be from Section 31, then we have to be ready for them."

"That would be the safest course of action."

Janeway stared out the window at the Delta Flyer, which was keeping station beside the larger scout ship, Ardene. "It would be a dream come true for Section 31 if they could get rid of me and Ramon Cabrera at the same time."

"A dream come true for them and a nightmare for the rest of us."

She closed her eyes as she imagined the possible explosive outcomes of their meeting on the moon. She wasn't happy with this situation or the haphazard way they'd been contacted in the first place, but she knew she had to see it through, no matter how dangerous it seemed. She opened her eyes. "Have you heard anything more from our original contact? Anything that might change the place or time of the meeting?"

"No, Admiral, I've heard nothing more in over two months, a silence which I find ominous."

"Perhaps you'll be reassured by this." She returned to her desk and pulled out another PADD. "I received a message yesterday from Sveta Jablonski."

The Vulcan's brow rose in surprise. "Sveta? The same person who recruited me into the Maquis?"

"You, Chakotay, Ayala, Hogan, and dozens of others." She held the PADD toward him. "On the surface, the letter is innocent enough. She heard of our intention to visit the moon and conduct a memorial service for the Maquis who were killed there. She wanted to provide additional background on some of the individuals our crew members wouldn't have known."

"A logical and thoughtful letter."

"Isn't it?" She retrieved the PADD and entered a series of commands. "However, I ran the message through a variety of cryptographic programs."

Tuvok straightened slightly in his seat. "Is this something you do on a regular basis with your mail, Admiral?"

She laughed. "And people say Vulcans don't have a sense of humor." She paused while the text of the letter changed and then offered the PADD to him again. "Look what popped up when I used an old Maquis code that Chakotay shared with me, a code, by the way, that was never broken by the Federation."

Tuvok read the message aloud. "'Beware of ambush on moon. 31 believes RC has BC scans.'" He looked up at the admiral. "Does Cabrera have scans of Belle Colony?"

"Who knows?" She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers. "He told me he scanned the colony before and after the explosion, but he implied that those scans were erased by the Starfleet ship that relieved them."

"Even so, he might have hidden a data chip somewhere on the vessel."

"It's possible." She gave him a rueful grin. "And Section 31 has to wonder if he had that chip with him when the Maquis retrieved his escape pod. If he did, and if the Maquis brought him to the caves, he might have hidden the data chip there."

"Hence the monitoring devices. And the mines."

"It would explain a lot."

They were lost in thought for a few moments before Tuvok narrowed his eyes as an idea occurred to him. "Admiral, if Cabrera has the scans, then the reason behind this meeting is obvious--to turn them over to you. But, why this way? Why not pick the middle of Starfleet command?"

"At high noon?" she agreed. "If he doesn't have the scans, he might have something completely different in mind. He might hope to force Section 31 into the open." She picked up Sveta's letter again. "The letter says that '31 believes RC has BC scans.' But does he? Sveta doesn't say one way or the other. I want to believe he has them, Tuvok, because the scans will help me convince Starfleet that Anorha's testimony is true."

"Lacking that, confirming the continuing existence of Section 31 would help, too."

"It wouldn't hurt." She leaned back in her chair, a headache blooming behind her eyes. "Whether copies of the scans exist or not, Section 31 can't take the chance of me getting my hands on them. They have to show up on the moon and . . . eliminate problem individuals. Like Cabrera."

"And you, Admiral. In light of all this, we have to assume that the hidden ship is staffed by members of Section 31 who intend to ambush our meeting on Tevlik's moon."

"Or simply blow us up."

Tuvok arched an eyebrow at that comment. "Whatever they plan, it will probably take place on the moon's surface. Whether the scans exist or not, that's where you and Cabrera will be the most vulnerable."

She sighed. "You picked up a single ship?"

"We detected only one. Seven thought it was probably about the size of a runabout."

"Six to eight crew."

"Unless the ship is larger than we think."

"We'll assume it is. And we have our own scout ship, the Delta Flyer, and whatever vessel Cabrera arrives in."

"Which will probably not be heavily armed."

"Maybe not, but it can help in a pinch, even if it just gets in the way. Three to one odds sounds good to me."

"Unless their ship is joined by other more powerful vessels."

"Always the optimist." Janeway scowled tossed the PADD on the desk, leaning forward to cradle her head in her hands. "I don't like this, Tuvok. There are too many unknown variables, and I don't like putting people in danger when the possible outcome is so uncertain. Not only that, we're dealing with an adversary who seems to think that murder is an acceptable method for eliminating problems."

"Would it be wise to request reinforcement from Starfleet?"

"We can't." She held up a hand to stop his protest. "Section 31 wants to surprise us on the moon, and we have to let them believe that they are surprising us. If we call in more ships, they'll realize that we know they're there. We'll have to make do with the ships and people we have."

"And retain for ourselves the element of surprise."

"Exactly." Janeway sat up and poured herself another mug of coffee. "Now, help me think this through. I want to anticipate every possible outcome and know how we intend to handle it."

"We only have three days, Admiral."

"Plenty of time." She gave him a confident smile. "Now, how would you deal with this problem if you were in Section 31?"

* * *

Kagan joined Chandler in the runabout's tiny galley for a quick meal. "Could you tell if that was that the Delta Flyer that we saw at the moon? Or was it one of the new copies?" 

"You know it's impossible to tell anything specific about a ship or its crew while inside this blasted hell hole." Chandler glared out the tiny porthole at the swirling plasma storms that made the Badlands a perfect hiding place. "But I think it was probably the original ship. Starfleet routinely makes it available to Voyager's senior staff since they're responsible for its design and original construction."

"They weren't on the surface very long."

"No, but they had plenty of time to find the cameras and explosives that we placed there years ago." He rubbed his face with fatigue. "We should've pulled that stuff out when we got here."

Kagan shook his head. "I disagree. They would have seen that the site had been visited recently. Better to let them find the old stuff and think they know what the threat is without tipping our hand."

"You don't think they knew we were here?"

"They certainly didn't act like they were aware of us. Remember, we're in the Badlands where sensors aren't as effective as they are in normal space. Besides, our ion trail was perfectly masked, impossible to pick up in this soup."

"Don't underestimate them, Kagan. They didn't survive for seven years in the Delta Quadrant by overlooking the telltale signs of danger."

"Have you realized how much easier this confrontation would be if the Utavi had sent us the cloaked ships as they were supposed to?" Kagan leaned back in his chair and stared out at the plasma swarms that swirled around their ship. "We could have been in orbit over the moon and watched their every move. And we might have avoided going back down to those caves."

Chandler repressed the anger he felt toward the Utavi. His Section 31 team leader had made it clear that the situation was being addressed by others, but he wanted to control everything about this situation. "I'm wondering how long it will be before the Utavi are made to pay for their betrayal."

"It can't be soon enough for me." Kagan felt the usual panic rising up his spine as he contemplated the return to Tevlik's moon. His wife and children had been killed in a similar orbital phaser attack just before he'd joined Section 31; in fact, he served in their honor, dedicated to doing what he could to prevent another such massacre, if possible. His exposure to the dead Maquis families on Tevlik's moon was the first time he'd seen in person what such an attack would be like, and he'd been haunted by nightmares ever since. "I want to get this behind me."

Chandler stood up. "I think the ship's been gone long enough for us to come up with a game plan." He went on talking, ignoring Kagan's anguish with the hope that he'd soon get a grip on his emotions.

* * *

"This stop-and-go approach reminds me of crossing a creek on stepping stones," Janeway complained. The day of the rendezvous had finally arrived, and the Delta Flyer was approaching Tevlik's moon by dashing to a plasma storm, hiding behind it long enough to scan the region for any approaching ships, and then making the next leap to another place of refuge. "A ship would have to be blind to miss us." 

"Most ships are blind when they're in the Badlands." Seven of Nine sat at the ops console studying the latest carefully-modulated scans with her usual detachment. "And since vessels must be small enough to maneuver freely, the ships are that much more difficult to detect."

Tom Paris, who had been drumming his fingers in the pilot's seat, turned to smile at the admiral who was seated directly above and behind him. "Still, I feel like a kid sneaking down the stairs on Christmas Eve, trying to catch Santa in the act."

Janeway smiled. "I remember doing that, too, but I was even more fascinated by the tooth fairy. When I was six, our new puppy lost a tooth. I put it under my pillow, hoping the tooth fairy would be fooled and leave me some spare change." She shook her head and chuckled. "Instead, I woke up to find a dog biscuit."

Paris laughed and was about to comment when Seven of Nine interrupted him. "Admiral, I'm detecting a small ship in synchronous orbit over the cave site."

Tuvok, who was seated in the rear of the Flyer, agreed. "I'm attempting to clear the image for display."

A snowy star field appeared on the view screen, and then was replaced a closer but still fuzzy view of a lunar surface. The ship was little more than a glint of reflected sunlight.

"Is that the best we can do?" Janeway wondered, turning to Seven of Nine. "Can we tell its size? Construction?"

"Negative," Seven replied. "There's too much interference."

"Maybe we should just give up on our 'stepping stones' and head over there." Paris studied the storms and laid in a course, anxious, as always, to be flying.

Janeway hesitated. She'd boarded the Flyer and had ordered the scout ship, Ardene, to take a more direct route through the Badlands with the hope that the members of Section 31 would overlook the smaller ship's covert approach. They would lose the element of surprise if they reacted too soon.

"It's too soon to show ourselves," she decided, taking another look at the sensor readings. "The messages indicated a rendezvous in three hours. If this ship is our contact, then they may not be ready for our arrival. While we're waiting for Ardene's arrival, we can watch them." She shifted her gaze to the screen. "Time will tell wither this is our contact making an early arrival, or whether it's someone else altogether."

"Do you think they might know that you're not on the Ardene?" Tuvok wondered.

"Tuvok, after all we've been through in the last three years, I think anything is possible." She turned back to Paris and Seven. "Hold our position here, but keep a course laid in, just in case we need to get there in a hurry. If nothing happens in the next couple of hours, we'll leap to the next 'stone' and take another look from closer range."

After a few moments of silence, Seven, obviously upset by their earlier discussion, said, "The lies humans tell their children seem cruel to me. An elf that comes down the chimney to deliver gifts? A fairy that rewards children for losing a tooth by sneaking into their bedrooms and leaving money under a pillow? What can you possibly find entertaining about small individuals who break into and enter your homes? I would think children would be scarred forever."

"Oh, Seven," Janeway laughed, "they don't 'break and enter.' Human children aren't 'scarred forever' by these traditions. They accept them playfully and enjoy the way they appeal to their imaginations."

"So you say," Tuvok disagreed. "However, Vulcans insist on grounding their children in reality rather than fantasy."

"Which makes me wonder how Vulcans ever made it into space," Tom answered with a glance over his shoulder. "You have to be able to imagine something before you can make it can happen."

"Mr. Paris," the Vulcan answered, his voice revealing the irritation he struggled to repress, "I would have to say that your case illustrates how an imagination can actually hamper an individual's journey toward maturity."

Janeway was about to make a comment when a claxon went off and a tactical screen automatically replaced the star field. She turned to Tuvok. "What is it?"

"A second, larger starship has arrived at the moon and has opened fire," he replied. "And the first ship, which is completely outgunned, has taken evasive action."

Paris hastily did a few calculations. "We could be there in ten minutes, ma'am."

Janeway narrowed her eyes, pausing to think about what she was seeing before she reacted. She briefly questioned whether she should come to the rescue of the first ship or join in the attack with one that had suddenly arrived, but then her Starfleet training kicked in. There was a small ship under attack by a superior force for no apparent reason, and she couldn't stop to ask whether one of them, large or small, carried a man who could help her exonerate Chakotay. With any luck, she could stop the battle before either ship was damaged.

"Lay in the course and engage at best possible speed," she ordered Paris before turning to Tuvok. "Work with Tom's vector so that our weapons will have maximum effect on subduing the attacking ship. And, Seven, signal Ardene to head for the moon as fast as possible." There was a chorus of replies as Janeway sat back in her seat to wait and watch. "So much for the element of surprise."

"We should arrive at the moon in about ten minutes," Paris reported as he entered one course correction after another in order to avoid the plasma storms swirling around the ship.

"I hope we're not too late," Janeway said to herself and to anyone else who bothered to listen.

The battle played out on their screens with eerie clarity for this region of space. The small ship dodged the first salvo and gained speed by rapidly losing altitude. Using its better maneuverability, the ship swept back toward its attacker, skimming its dorsal side and landing a phaser blast along the port nacelle. Peeling away once again toward the moon's surface, the vessel was caught momentarily by the larger ship's tractor beam before managing to break loose, but the effort brought with it severe damage to the ship's flight control systems and a sudden plunge toward the surface. Janeway could almost feel the vibrations of the ship's malfunctioning inertial dampeners as it plunged into the moon's gravity well, out of control.

"Reset the hull's polarity," Paris murmured, caught up in the pilot's struggle as he watched the ship tumble toward the surface. "Flatten your trajectory."

Janeway was about to order more speed when a phaser blast hit the small ship's starboard nacelle and sent the vessel tumbling out of control, a plume of plasma marking its death spiral until it disappeared into the clouds covering the moon's surface. The Flyer's command deck was silent, the crew too shocked by this sudden turn of events to react. Janeway ordered, "Plot its path and extrapolate the location of the crash site." Then she turned to Paris, her face dark with anger as the aggressor set course away from the moon. "Adjust our course, Mr. Paris. Let's see what that bully can do to a ship our size."

"Admiral, have you forgotten that we're here to meet with our contact?" Tuvok reminded her. "I suggest that we send Ardene after the aggressor while we follow up on the condition of this ship's occupants."

For a moment, Janeway simply gripped the arms of her chair in frustration, yearning to bring this brutal assailant to justice, but she quickly thought better of it, grateful, once again, for Tuvok's level head. "Thank you for the reminder, Tuvok. Notify Ardene of the escaping ship's last known course and speed so they can intercept and subdue them. Mr. Paris, we might as well take a direct course to the moon. Best possible speed."

Seven was her usual factual self. "This region of the moon where the ship crashed is impossible to scan accurately from space, Admiral. The natural effects of the rock and the residual effects of the Cardassian attack render our sensors useless."

"Do what you can." Janeway sighed, her right eye pulsing with pain. "If there are survivors, we need to find them as quickly as possible."

Seven arched an eyebrow. "I would be surprised if anyone survived the ship's crash."

"Maybe they beamed to the surface before it was too late," she replied, struggling against the pessimism that radiated from the former drone.

Seven knew better than to voice her disagreement, but a glance at Tom Paris confirmed that he did not share Janeway's optimism.

* * *

An hour later and on the moon's surface, Janeway felt a hypospray being pressed against her neck and gradually became aware of a man leaning over her. Even though she couldn't make her eyes focus, she felt the pain in her chest lessen slightly and closed her eyes as she drew in a much-needed breath. She was lying on her back, and the clouds were heavy and low overhead. 

"She'll make it," the man said over his shoulder before he stood up. "It was just a heavy stun."

Another man answered him. "Idiot. Why did you set your phaser so high?"

"I was trying to take out the Vulcan. How was I to know the admiral would step in front of him?"

The world wavered. Heavy stun? No wonder she felt like hell. Janeway tried to listen to the conversation, but she drifted in and out of consciousness and was unable to follow everything that was said. She was comforted to hear Tuvok's calm voice as he contacted the Flyer and reported that there had been no survivors. No survivors? Vulcans don't lie, yet she knew that Tuvok must be lying. Where else would these men have come from but the crashed ship?

They'd beamed to the moon as close as the radiation would allow, about a mile from the crash site, and they'd immediately hiked through the moon's rough terrain toward the proper coordinates. However, when their tricorders found no evidence of bodies in the debris, as impossible as that seemed, they had become wary. And when two armed men had accosted them . . . she moaned at the memory. One of the men had aimed his phaser, and she'd simply reacted to the threat.

"An impressive mock battle." Where had she heard that phrase? Tuvok had said that about the two ships they'd watched dueling above the moon. Or had she said it? She could remember hearing his voice now and then as the man had treated her injury. He had argued with the two strangers, and that's how she knew that they had been on the ship that had been forced down. Or hadn't been. Had he said "mock battle" then or had she said it earlier? No, Tuvok had said it later, while the first man had been leaning over her. Or maybe he'd said it just before the men had appeared.

There was a different voice, scratchy, from afar. Tom Paris was talking to Tuvok. Of course. Tom and Seven were in orbit in the Flyer, but they couldn't scan the surface. That's why she and Tuvok had beamed down. She couldn't make sense of his words. With extreme concentration, she listened to the end of Tuvok's transmission. "Admiral Janeway has decided to remain on the surface and wait in the caves for our contact to arrive."

Had she decided that? They'd discussed what they would do if there were no survivors, and waiting in the caves was one option she'd mentioned. Or had she just thought about it?

Moments later, or maybe longer, a shadow fell over her face. From high above her, a voice said, "You carry her, Vulcan." Or maybe he'd said it before the shadow arrived, and she was just remembering.

Then Tuvok was beside her, speaking softly. His words reminded her of a joke. A type one phaser in her pocket. Was that the line? Glad to see me? Or is that a phaser in your pocket? No, Tuvok wouldn't make a joke like that. But he had said those words. The phaser in your pocket. Hadn't he?

She remembered scanning the crash site and being surprised by the two men with phaser rifles. She'd instinctively stepped in front of Tuvok. Rash. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for being rash. Pure instinctive reaction to being ambushed by the men. No, not rash--reckless. Tuvok had once called her reckless, and now look what she had done. She had led him into a trap. She moved her mouth to apologize, but the only sound she could produce was an incoherent moan.

She saw the outline of Tuvok's head and his dark skin against the grey clouds as he leaned over her. He slid one arm was beneath her knees, and then the other beneath her shoulders as gently as possible. She groaned and tried to beg him not to move her, but the pain took her breath away. She felt something break open inside her chest as he lifted her from the ground. The world darkened and spun away.

"I'm sorry," Tuvok whispered.

* * *

After an arduous climb up a steep hillside, the men lead Tuvok into a set of rooms that Tuvok knew from his previous visit had served as a major access point to the interior. Three outer chambers contained monitors that provided a 360-degree security sweep of the surrounding terrain; a secure doorway gave access downward to a larger interior chamber that had been a major security checkpoint and stronghold. From that second room, access to the rest of the large subterranean base could be gained through a wide passageway that wound deep into the moon's rocky core. 

However, the earth and rock that had covered these four rooms had been blasted open by the Cardassians' attack, and large holes, open to the sky, provided adequate lighting into the caves during the day and on most nights, thanks to the reflected light from the moon's planet. The entire complex of rooms, which had once been laced with security equipment and defensive weapons, had been stripped to bare rock. The only evidence of the desperate battle that had occurred here was the bloodstains where Maquis rebels had died defending their people.

"Paris to Janeway."

Tuvok had just placed the unconscious admiral on the floor of the security chamber when her commbadge activated. He looked up at the taller man, waiting for instructions. The shorter man, the one who had overreacted and phasered the admiral, seemed distracted, even upset, by his surroundings, a fact that Tuvok filed away for further thought.

The taller man frowned. "Tell him that the admiral is indisposed and that you'll pass on their news."

Tuvok stood up and tapped his commbadge. "Tuvok to Paris. The admiral is busy right now, but I'll pass on your news."

There was a pause, and Tuvok suspected that Paris and Seven were surprised that he was replying to their hail and wondering what could be so interesting that Janeway talking to them.

"Well," Paris finally started, "we got a message from Ardene. It seems this scout ship we saw here is loaded for bear--extra phasers, photon torpedoes, even some shields that B'Elanna thinks were inspired by what the admiral brought from the future."

"Then they've engaged the vessel?" Tuvok asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe. She said that they were holding their own . . . barely . . . when a third ship appears out of nowhere."

"Third ship?" Tuvok watched his two captors carefully, convinced that they were as surprised as he was by this new development. The shorter man started to speak, but was hushed by his partner. "Was it hiding behind the plasma storms?

"She didn't say. Because they were fighting for their lives, they didn't have much time to be watching long range sensors. Anyway, this new ship arrives and unloads on the other ship big time. B'Elanna said it's dead in the water."

Tuvok was gratified to see the two men blanche with alarm, the shorter one breaking out in a sweat as he glanced around the ruined caves and studied the blood stains that were splattered on the walls and pooled on the floor. "And the Ardene?"

"Well, here's the funny thing. She thought the new ship must be the people we were meeting, you know? But then the ship turned on them, too. They have impulse power, but that's it. She said it will take them twelve hours to get moving again unless we could spare Seven's help." There was a pause. "Since we still have a couple of hours, she wanted to know if I could dash over there with Seven and come right back?"

Tuvok looked down at Janeway. The tunic beneath her ribcage was burned through and soaked with blood, and he wished that he could blurt out the truth about what was going on. But he was very conscious of the phaser rifles still being pointed at him and mindful of the fact that the Delta Flyer's transporters couldn't lock onto them while the ship was in orbit. "Any sign of what happened to the third ship?"

"Negative. B'Elanna said their sensors were still offline, so no big surprise there. You're worried that they're headed over this way, right?"

"The thought had occurred to me."

"Seven tried to find the third ship on our enhanced sensors, but she couldn't come up with anything. We can continue to scan for it while we're on our way to the Ardene."

Before Tuvok could reply, the taller man caught his attention and drew a line across his throat, whispering, "Tell him you need to consult with the admiral."

"Stand by. Let me see what the admiral wants you to do," Tuvok answered, closing the comm link and waiting for instructions.

"Tell them everything here is fine and that his short absence shouldn't be a problem." When Tuvok just stared at him, the man scowled. "Do it."

"Tom," Tuvok said after reopening the link, "everything is calm here, so take Seven to help the Ardene, but return as soon as possible."

"Aye, sir. I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

When the comm link was broken, Tuvok looked up to find the tall man was standing alone and the other one walking through one of the outer rooms toward an exit. Answering Tuvok's unspoken question, the man explained, "I sent him to get the full medkit from our ship so you can take care of the admiral's wound. I'm just wondering if this 'third ship' scenario is a code you've set up with your people."

"You wouldn't expect me to admit it if it was, do you?"

The man barely smiled at the joke. "If that ship is the people you're hoping to meet, then I'd say they aren't terribly friendly, wouldn't you?"

Tuvok's face remained impassive. "We're here to honor the Maquis dead."

This time, the man laughed out loud. "As if you expect me to believe that."

* * *

Water dripped somewhere close by Janeway's head, a steady, rhythmic tattoo that caught her attention and seemed to set the pace for the pounding blood in her ears. The frigid air was heavy with humidity and smelled strangely metallic, even tasted metallic. She was reminded of a laboratory she'd visited at Utopia Planetia, but it hadn't been so humid there or so freezing cold. Shivering, she opened her eyes to find Tuvok beside her, his gaze fastened on her bare torso. 

"What?" she croaked, embarrassed to be disrobed in front of him, but he silenced her with a look. She turned her head and saw an open medical kit beside a pile of shredded, bloody clothing—her clothing. She glanced at his hands as he put a field dressing on her stomach, giving her another warning look when she opened her mouth to talk.

"She'll be awake soon," Tuvok reported over his shoulder to their captors. He snapped the medkit shut and lifted her up far enough to pull his oversized jacket over her bare shoulders. Again, he whispered something about a phaser in her pocket as he pressed a final hypospray against her neck.

Her surroundings came into focus. She was in a cave, lying on a smooth flat surface beside an underground creek where Tuvok knelt washing red blood from his hands. Her blood. She placed her fingers on her stomach where the thick field dressing covered a fresh phaser wound just below her ribcage. She took a deep breath, testing the pain. Tolerable, but just barely.

In the shadows, the two strangers watched her struggle to sit up without offering to assist her, each holding a phaser loosely in one hand. They wore black clothing that resembled what was worn by Starfleet rangers, but there was no sign of rank or of the familiar delta-shaped commbadge. Even so, Janeway knew they were Starfleet trained and probably members of the infamous Section 31.

"Who the hell are you?" She was resting on her elbows, nearly overwhelmed by nausea from the aftereffects of the stun, yet determined not to show her discomfort. Her right hand brushed against her trouser pocket and felt the tiny lump made by a type one phaser. In the turmoil after she'd been hit, their captors must have failed to search her for another weapon. That's what Tuvok had been telling her. She had a phaser in her pocket.

"I think you have a good idea who we are, Admiral," the taller man replied, "but I prefer to think of us as an interested third party."

"More like a guilty first party," she snapped, only to close her eyes as the pounding in her head spiked along with her blood pressure.

"Here, Admiral, let me help." Tuvok arrived at her side and supported her as she struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on his arm as the cave wavered into and out of focus. He helped her slide her arms into the jacket and pull it closed in front, and she was grateful for the warmth it provided her. She wondered how much time had elapsed since their arrival and what these men intended to do to them. Was it time for their rendezvous? Was Cabrera going to walk into the same trap they had? As much as she hated giving up control of a fluid situation, she knew that Tuvok was in a much better position to deal with it than she was. She decided to play up her frailty and let him take the lead until she figured out what was going on.

"Is she going to be well enough to meet with the contact?" the shorter man asked as he glared at her mismatched clothing, chalky complexion, and bleary eyes. "She has to convince these people that she's in good shape, and right now she looks like hell."

"We saw a small ship come under attack and crash on the moon. We came to offer assistance."

"Exactly what we expected you to do. And the meeting?"

"Meeting? We'll begin the memorial service once the Ardene's crew is able to join us."

The tall man bristled with irritation. "Listen, Vulcan, I'm in no mood for games . . . ."

"Wait just a minute," Janeway interrupted, pushing herself away from Tuvok only to have to steady herself by leaning against the wall. "Why hasn't Ardene already arrived?"

"There have been some developments." The tall man studied her and then turned to his partner. "Replicate some clothes for her and see what you can do about her physical condition. We still have an hour before the rendezvous."

Although Janeway didn't want to be separated from Tuvok, she had no choice but to allow the shorter man to grab her arm and lead her through the doorway toward the exit. They were halfway across the outer room when her commbadge beeped and everyone froze. She was being hailed by Tom Paris. The man gripped her arm so tightly that she knew she'd have bruises; she could see that he was unnerved by the situation and wondered if she could in some way take advantage of that.

"Let's not panic," the taller man advised him from the other room. He looked at Janeway. "Just acknowledge the call and listen to whatever he wants to tell you. But say nothing unless I tell you to do so, understand?"

She bowed her head and tapped her badge. "Janeway here."

"Good to hear your voice, Admiral," Tom Paris began. "We caught up with the Ardene. B'Elanna said they were giving as good as they got until the third ship appeared. Looks like the other ship took the worst of it, though. They're struggling to keep their inertial dampeners online and refusing to answer hails. With Seven's help, the Ardene should be underway in six or eight hours."

"Acknowledged." In spite of her attempt to remain impassive, Janeway's eyes widened at the news of a third ship that had attacked both vessels. She gave Tuvok a calculated look as their two captors reacted to the bad news, but she could tell he'd heard of this development before, perhaps while she was unconscious. Obviously, their captors were as surprised as she and Tuvok were by this third vessel and worried about its apparent poor condition. The tall man quietly asked her to delve into the third ship's location. She said, "Any sign of the third ship, Lieutenant?"

There was a pause when she'd used his rank, and Paris's voice seemed strained when he replied, "No, ma'am. I've picked up Ayala. We'll be back in orbit as soon as I can. If we see any evidence of another ship, we'll let you know."

"Very well," she answered. Her dismay that the Flyer was no longer in orbit overhead was written all over her face. "Keep me posted. Janeway out."

The four of them stood silent for a moment before the tall man cleared his throat. "Well, I'd say we'd better hurry, Kagan. Take her to the ship and get the clothes. We're wasting time."

Janeway gave Tuvok one last look as they crossed the room and walked through the crumbling exit into the twilight of sunset. They were standing on a ledge that had been carved out of the side of the steep bluff, a height that brought on a surge of vertigo that nearly made Janeway faint. A ship was barely visible at the bottom of the deep valley where the men had shielded it from the "crash site." Feeling dizzy and weak, Janeway studied the tortuous switchbacks that led down to the ship with a feeling of dread and despair. She instinctively pressed backward against the wall, just inside the cave, putting a hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep from throwing up.

"Kagan? Is that your name?"

"Yeah." He looked at her with concern. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not. I think I'm going to throw up. Can't we just beam into the ship from here?" she begged. "I'll never make it down the path in one piece in this condition."

"The radiation interferes with the transporter."

"Even this close?" she swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "Could you try?"

"I guess I could." She stepped back and leaned against the side of the exit while Kagan fished a remote activation device from his pocket. Still aiming his phaser at her, he activated the device, but instead of the familiar tingle of a transporter beam, Janeway witnessed a blossom of orange light from below and then was thrown back into the cave by shockwave of a tremendous explosion. She found herself lying on her back as chunks of pulverized rock and a thick layer of dust rained down on through the gaping hole that had once been the cave's exit.

For long moments, she saw only a blur of light and felt cocooned in an eerie silence because of the blast's deafening concussion, but then she was desperately gasping for oxygen. Kagan, who had been standing in front of her, had taken the brunt of the explosion and had landed beside her in the cave, face down and covered by debris. She struggled to cough the dust out of her nose and mouth, spitting out a mixture of blood and mud until she could draw a ragged breath.

Still unable to hear anything but the ringing in her ears, she shook her head and peered into the inner chamber where flashes of phaser fire illuminated the room. Hoping that Tuvok had taken advantage of the explosion's chaos to stage a fight, she began a search for Kagan's phaser rifle with the hope of giving him some help. As she crawled past Kagan's immobile body, she tried not to look at his back which had been ripped apart by pieces of the shuttle and was soaked in blood. Instead, she focused on the rifle that had landed on the far side of the room. Her head was spinning, she was totally deaf, and each breath brought on a spasm of coughing, but the approaching phaser fight gave her all the encouragement she needed to keep going in spite of the pain.

The air above her filled with the familiar tingle of phaser fire, and she spied the feet and legs of a man backing into the chamber from the interior room. She frantically crawled toward the rifle, reaching out for it just as the man's foot kicked it out of reach. A hand snagged the back of her jacket and hauled her up from the floor, her back against his body.

Janeway cried out as the damaged muscles of her stomach stretched, and she wilted as he shifted her so that his arm caught her across the chest, her feet barely touching the floor. He tossed his rifle out the opening and with his other hand wedged a hand phaser under her jawbone and pressed it so hard against her neck that she was sure he'd broken the skin. Her ears still ringing from the blast and her eyes still filled with dust and tears, all she knew for sure was that she was being held as a hostage and that she was too seriously injured to fight back.

She could feel the rumble of the man's voice as he spoke, no doubt attempting to affect his escape, and shook her head in a vain attempt to correct her hearing. He used her body as a shield, and his arm pulled the temporary bandage away from the phaser burn, bringing on a wave of blinding pain and another bout of coughing. At least the tears she shed helped clear her vision so that she could two men standing in the passageway to the inner chamber. She looked up, expecting to see Tom Paris or Tuvok, but, instead, she thought she must be hallucinating.

Cabrera was one of two men pointing phasers at her captor, but the second looked like and alien. Could it be Maraqet, the Toroyan ship's captain with whom she and Anorha had worked? She had to be mistaken. The Toroyans were light years away, still caught up in the conflict with their enemies and stretched too thin to send a high-ranking officer like Maraqet to Federation space. She knew that she must be hallucinating or that her eyes were playing tricks on her. She wondered where Tuvok might be, sending up a silent prayer that he hadn't been killed or seriously injured.

The men faced each other, arguing, their faces dark and menacing, until, at last, as her hearing began to return, she began to follow their conversation.

"You're Chandler, aren't you?" Cabrera asked. "When you aren't borrowing Sloan's name. And I'm guessing that . . . ," he pointed at the body on the cave floor, " . . . was Kagan."

"I refuse to speak to a Starfleet deserter," Chandler replied as he backed toward the cave entrance, keeping her body between himself and the men. "Especially on an issue that concerns security of the Federation."

"But that's why you're here, isn't it? To talk to me? Isn't that why you're holding the admiral hostage? Because you have something important you need to get from me?"

"The admiral has obviously been misled by criminals who want to take advantage of her. I'm taking her into custody so that an investigation can be done."

"And that's why you shot her?" Cabrera smiled. "If it's an investigation like the one into Belle Colony, you might as well kill her now."

She could feel Chandler stiffen at the allegation. "We've looked for accurate scans of the colony."

"So you could destroy them, right?" Cabrera laughed. "You don't think I'm stupid enough to bring the scans with me today, do you?"

Chandler's grip tightened around her chest, and Janeway drooped slightly as the world went out of focus. "The scans won't matter once everyone involved is dead."

"An honest answer at last." Cabrera and Maraqet separated, moving to opposite sides of the chamber's inner door in order to increase the possibility for a clear shot. "What about the others your secret work has damaged? What about the Toroyans, who were attacked through the use of your cloaked ships?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

When Maraqet spoke up for the first time, his familiar accent told Janeway that she hadn't been dreaming. "But you do know, infidel. Their cloaked ships were developed at Belle Colony and built by the Utavi. They were your partners, and you know all about them."

She felt Chandler press the phaser deeper under her jaw. "They were supposed to build a prototype that we could use for developing proper defense tactics."

"Really?" Maraqet was taller than Chandler, and his eyes were menacing as he took a step closer. "They used them to assassinate our leaders and escalate a war that has killed thousands of innocent people."

"We can hardly be held responsible if they abuse the technology, can we? Stay back!" Chandler continued to drag her toward the cave entrance. For the first time, she heard the sound of resignation in his voice, the tone of desperation evaporating as he accepted his inevitable defeat. His partner lay dead on the floor, his ship was in pieces outside the cave, and his reinforcements had been cast adrift in the Badlands. He had no hope for survival, and she knew he was steeling himself for what he thought he had to do. He was going to kill himself and probably take her with him.

"You weren't responsible for the research, Chandler; everyone knows that," she managed to croak, hoping to reason with him.

Cabrera recognized the change in Chandler's attitude, as well, and gestured for Maraqet to back up. Janeway tried to imagine how Chandler might do it. If he switched the phaser to overload, the whine would warn all of them of his intention, giving them enough time to prevent it from exploding inside the caves. Perhaps he would shoot her and then allow Cabrera and Maraqet to exact their revenge, hoping to have the chance to take one of them with him. Then she remembered the deep valley behind them and imagined the two of them falling to their deaths, the most dramatic, most elegant solution of all because he would carry her with him to their deaths. She suspected he was too much of a coward to die alone.

As if to confirm her thoughts, Chandler inched farther back toward the cave's opening, and Janeway resumed her effort to reason with him. "I'm sure you wanted to develop defensive strategies, and that will help deflect the blame for whatever went wrong."

"Shut up, Admiral," he replied, squeezing her until she gasped with pain. "Why wouldn't you give up on exonerating your beloved first officer? You're the one responsible for my predicament, and I'm going to make sure you pay for it."

They were so close to the opening that Janeway could feel the heat of the still-burning shuttle in the valley. "You don't want to do this, Chandler," she whispered, barely able to speak. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure that you're treated fairly."

"I told you to shut up!" he jerked her backward and off of her feet, ripping open the wound in her abdomen in the process. She could feel the blood seeping through the bandage and down her stomach as her vision blurred and pain pushed all thoughts from her mind. He man-handled her body so that he could step out onto the ledge without exposing himself to phaser fire, still keeping the phaser tight against her neck. She became aware of the men shouting at them, and she realized that she was the only one who could keep herself from harm.

Janeway felt as if time had slowed down so that she could let her mind drift away from her impossible predicament toward something completely wonderful and comforting. She smelled cinnamon, spiced cider warm in a mug with starlight streaming by the ship's windows. She heard the distinctive cry of a scrawny primate as she bathed outdoors in a wooden tub. She saw the golden sunlight spilling through the tiny window at the orphanage, bringing with it the morning bustle of children, the aroma of baking bread, and the gentle touch of the man she loved.

Chakotay. Janeway wanted to see him again. She wanted him to be with her, not exiled to some distant part of space for a crime he didn't commit. She'd come to this shattered moon to rectify that problem, not to give up and let some irrational terrorist end her life. In spite of her careful planning, everything had had gone wrong. Why was that? She and Tuvok had been kidnapped trying to find a crash site that had been carefully choreographed to look real, and then she had ordered Ardene pursue the ship's phony attacker. Even the Flyer was no longer overhead ready to lend assistance.

Chakaotay would be disappointed. He had always admonished her to prepare for the unexpected event, and she'd always laughed at such a suggestion. How does one plan for the unknown? "It's the only way a Maquis can stay alive," he'd told her, time and again. Expect the unexpected. This time, the unexpected had been a third ship.

Maraqet and his cloaked ship were the unexpected elements. His was the third ship that had interfered with the battle, damaging both Ardene and the second Section 31 vessel. There was no way she could have planned for his arrival, and yet . . . . Hadn't she worked with the Toroyan government to smooth out the damage done by the Federation's duplicitous secret sect? Hadn't she helped them find out the true origin of the cloaked ships and then devised a workable defense against them? Hadn't she and Maraqet come to an understanding about their mutual enemies, whether they were external, like the Utavi, or internal, like Section 31? Should she be surprised that the Toroyans, grateful for her help, would travel this far to stand beside her as she faced her enemies?

Indebted to the Toroyan for his loyalty, Janeway decided to do something, anything, to fight her way through this predicament, and that resolution brought her back to life and to real time. Because she had become a rag doll drooping over his arm, Chandler had removed the phaser from her neck and was pointing it at Cabrera and Maraqet, who had been forced to move back into the interior room. As her captor waved his phaser at one of them, the other struggled to get a clear shot, but she knew that he could avoid their fire by jumping quickly.

Taking a deep breath against the pain, she grabbed her left fist with her right hand and drove her left elbow into Chandler's stomach with every ounce of energy she could summon. Chandler grunted in pain and loosened his grip on her, allowing her to drop to her knees in front of him. Maraqet immediately fired at him, but Chandler managed to evade to duck behind her.

"I'm not dying alone," Chandler gasped as he aimed the phaser over her head at a seam above the interior doorway. An outer portion of the wall peeled away as a hidden explosive was detonated. The ceiling, already damaged by the Cardassian attack years earlier, crumbled and slid to the floor, trapping Cabrera and Maraqet in the interior chamber and leaving Janeway alone with the man who intended to kill her. She scooted away from him toward the side wall as he aimed his phaser at her head.

She closed her eyes and waited for death, only to hear someone yelling from the ledge outside the cave and then tremendous crash of one body hitting another. She opened her eyes to see two men struggling for possession of the phaser. She had no idea where the second man had come from or who he was. He was dressed completely in black with his face painted, as well, and in the dim twilight, it was all she could do to tell which of the two was Chandler. She was looking around for something to use to help bring the fight to an end when she remembered the phaser in her pocket. She pulled it out, set it to stun, and waited for a clear shot.

There was no question that Chandler was going to battle to the death. He kept trying to manipulate the phaser so that it pointed at his attacker, but just as he was about to succeed, the other man would shift his weight or push the arm away. They were so well matched that Janeway was fascinated at the give and take she was witnessing. They would roll close to the edge of the precipice, and just as she despaired of their survival, they would crash back into the chamber, sometimes shoving the other into the rockslide that had sealed off the inner room. Just when she thought she had a clear shot, the second man would block her aim until she was trembling with anxiety. At times, Chandler's hand would close on the phaser, and the shot would bring down more rock and debris from the ceiling. Finally, the phaser went flying out of the opening and into the darkness toward the burning ship, leaving the men on an equal footing at last.

At that moment, Maraqet and Cabrera, who were caught on the other side of the collapsed wall, began to make headway as they dug through the rubble, pushing dirt and sand ahead of them.

Maraqet's head appeared near the top of the slide, and he yelled, "Don't give up the fight, Tyee. We're coming to help you."

"Tyee?" Janeway's head was spinning as she realized what the Toroyan had said. She struggled to her knees and shouted, "Chakotay?"

The familiar name stunned Chandler and then filled him with superhuman strength. He threw Chakotay to the far side of the room and then grabbed Janeway, pushing her against the wall with a look of pure evil in his eyes.

"I'm going to get you after all!" he sneered as he wrapped his hands around her neck. "And your precious commander can watch it happen."

"Not today," Janeway said, as she buried the phaser in his chest and fired. His eyes glazed over and then closed as he lost consciousness, pulling her with him as he collapsed to the floor.

Sick and exhausted, Janeway was immobilized by pain. "Chakotay?" she whispered as she struggled to sit up. "Is that really you?"

"It's really me." He leaned over her and then cradled her in his lap. In spite of his camouflaged face and disheveled hair, he was the best thing Janeway had seen in months. "How badly are you injured?"

She ignored the question. "I should've realized that you'd do something like this." She relaxed against him, relieved to know he was all right.

"Kathryn, did you think I would let you face these bastards alone? Besides, I knew Maraqet would leap at the chance to use the cloaked vessels against the Utavis' partners in crime."

"Poetic justice." She closed her eyes for just a minute to relish the feeling of Chakotay's embrace, but when she opened them again, she found herself lying in the Ardene's sickbay with the familiar face of Voyager's EMH staring down at her.

to be continued


	16. La Vita Bella

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to Voyager. I'm just taking a few of the characters for a little outing.

Summary: The Belle Colony issue behind them at last, Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay contemplate their future.

Note: This story begins about six weeks after Tevlik Moon.

La Vita Bella (a story in the BC universe)

by mizvoy

"A leave of absence?" Admiral Owen Paris didn't try to hide his surprise. "Kathryn, you must be joking!"

"It was that or my resignation," Kathryn Janeway replied, "and I'm not sure I won't end up resigning anyway."

"Because you're still angry about what happened over Belle Colony?"

"They refused to listen to me when I was begging them to, and now they're angry because they think I'm refusing to tell everything I know now."

"When have you ever told everything you know?" He studied her. They were seated at a secluded booth in The Night Owl, a coffee shop in San Francisco, because she refused to come to his office or step foot on Starfleet property. She wasn't even in uniform on a Thursday afternoon. "You can tell me what happened."

"What would you like to know, Owen?"

"Did you actually blow up their ship and shoot Chandler single-handed?"

"I never said I blew up their ship. I just said it blew up, and when it did, Kagan was killed."

"How did it blow up?"

"I really don't know. The evidence points to a loss of antimatter containment."

"Strange, don't you think? For two Starfleet officers to fail to secure the magnetic constrictors in a warp engine?" She shrugged, and he rubbed his face in consternation. "So the ship blows up, which kills Kagan and worsens your phaser wound."

"Right."

"When they hear the explosion, Chandler and Tuvok wrestle until Chandler shoots him. Then somehow you manage to shoot Chandler."

"I really don't know what Chandler and Tuvok were doing after the explosion, sir. And as for my shooting Chandler, they didn't search me after I was wounded. When I found the palm phaser in my pocket, I used it."

"What about the passageway between the room where you were and where Tuvok was? There was evidence that the cave in was caused by explosives."

"Apparently so, but don't ask me who put them there."

"My point is that Chandler, Tuvok and you are unconscious. Kagan is dead. Yet someone dug through the debris and crawled out of the inner room."

"That's what they tell me, but I didn't see it happen. I'd passed out by then."

"A lot of things don't add up, Kathryn. There was no sign of a struggle between Chandler and Tuvok in the inside room, but there was a significant struggle in the room where Tom found you."

She sighed, her finger absently circling the rim of her cup. "I'm not sure my memory can be trusted about much of this, Owen. I'd been shot and then the explosion. I just don't recall everything very clearly."

"Kathryn," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "no more games. Who else was there?"

Her eyes were ice blue. "You tell me."

"Someone was." He sat back with a scowl on his face. "Someone had to be. There was an unidentified ship in the Badlands. It interfered in the battle between Ardene and the Proctor and then disappeared. It came to the moon, right?"

"I never saw a third ship."

"So you couldn't say whether it resembled the cloaked ships that the Utavi used in their attack on the Toroyan station?"

"You saw Ardene's scans the same as I did, Owen. They were inconclusive because of the damage to her sensors, not to mention the normal interference from the plasma storms."

"Too bad, don't you think?" He watched her face for a reaction, but she wasn't forthcoming. "Tom said that when he found you and took you back to the flyer for emergency treatment, you mumbled Chakotay's name."

"I was there to clear his name," she smiled, blushing. "I was probably thinking about him when all of this started, don't you think?"

Paris drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Tuvok doesn't remember fighting Chandler. In fact, he thinks Chandler shot him as soon as the explosion occurred."

"Well, who knows what happened? He probably suffered a short term memory loss."

Paris leaned toward her, intent on getting the truth. "Kagan dead and Chandler unconscious on the moon. Six more Starfleet officers dead on the Proctor. I guess you're saying they were all with Section 31."

"You said that, not me, Owen." She took a sip of her coffee. "You could always ask Chandler."

"He refuses to talk. In fact, he's attempted suicide three times and is under constant watch."

She shook her head in dismay. "Is it true that the Proctor self-destructed?"

"Impossible to say. They were severely damaged in the battle, but B'Elanna swears that they weren't in danger of a breech." He crossed his arms and glared at her. "And why would eight Starfleet officers be in the Badlands, anyway? Proctor was supposed to be mapping a nebula six sectors away. Why would they attack Ardene? Why would Chandler and Kagan shoot you and Tuvok when you were only there to have a memorial service?"

"I could tell you what I think it was all about, Owen, but you wouldn't believe me."

He laughed. "Let me guess. It was all about Belle Colony?"

She tilted her head rather than answering, and smiled when her former mentor groaned in disbelief. "Just as I thought. Owen, I should tell you that I'm going to be away for awhile. I need to collect my thoughts and decide what I want to do next."

"I have an idea you might be going back to help the Caritas."

"The woman who runs the orphanage is in the process of rebuilding the house and barn and could use all the help she can get. She nursed me back to health, so I thought I'd return the favor."

"And the Caritas?"

"Their home base is there, of course. I guess I could help them, too, if they need it."

"You're satisfied, now that the charges against Chakotay have been dropped? You're willing to let this Belle Colony issue drop once and for all?"

She leaned her elbows on the table and gently rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I'm sorry that it took all this death and destruction to convince Starfleet that he was innocent. So many people suffered who didn't have to."

"Miraculous, isn't it, that a copy of Coquille's scans was hidden in the wall that collapsed in the caves?"

She laughed out loud. "It is a miracle, Owen. A damned miracle."

He couldn't help but laugh with her, marveling at her equanimity. "Maybe someday, you'll tell me what really happened out there."

"Oh, Owen, don't dig too deep. They say the truth will set you free, but that's a lie. Sometimes, the truth will kill you."

In spite of his resolution not to get emotional, he felt a sudden pang of remorse. "You aren't coming back, are you?"

She reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. "I don't know. I'm terribly disillusioned right now, and I have to decide if I can trust Starfleet enough to come back."

"If these officers were Section 31, Katie, then this has to be the last of it."

Janeway shook her head, skeptical. "This group has existed since before the Federation was even established, Owen. You've read the history books. You know about Archer's interaction with them. They're like a starfish. You chop them into pieces, and then each piece turns into a new starfish."

"Those officers on the Proctor? None of them was old enough to have been involved with the Belle Colony project."

"No, but Kagan and Chandler were."

"And they're out of the picture, Kathryn, and Belle Colony is out in the open. You're no longer a threat to anyone." He paused, lowering his voice. "And neither is Chakotay."

She slowly raised her head to look at him, careful not to over-react as their eyes locked. She wasn't about to admit to him or anyone else that Chakotay was alive, not when there might still be some half-crazed idiot who wanted him dead. "It's too late for him, Owen. Chakotay is gone forever."

"I hope that isn't true, Kathryn. Because I have a feeling that if he's really gone forever, so are you."

Her eyes misted over, and she took a minute to reign in her emotions. "I'll be back, if not to resume my career, then to visit my family and my crew. I owe all of you so much, Owen. I owe you, too. I know that."

"I just want you to be happy, Katie."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I will be happy, sir. I promise you that."

* * *

Six months later 

The cabin was deceptively rustic form the outside, resembling an unimproved alpine rescue shack with its log construction and native stone fireplace. The addition of a glassed-in front porch was the only thing that set the cabin apart from dozens of others in the high mountain pastures.

One step indoors, however, and you were firmly in the twenty-fourth century. The fireplace was real enough, but was augmented by geothermic heat for the cold winter months. The small kitchen contained all of the necessities of a modern galley, including a replicator, and the bath boasted a luxurious whirlpool tub. A plush sofa and two chairs sat in front of the fireplace, and a state-of-the-art communications center filled the far wall. There was even a transporter pad tucked into the corner of the small dinette. Over the kitchen was a loft that housed a bedroom, a small half-bath, and a closet.

It was the perfect retreat for two.

At the crack of dawn, a young golden retriever who had been sleeping on the pillow in a cozy corner of the loft stood up, stretched, and made her way to the bedside where she snuffed her very cold nose into the warm covers.

"Yikes! Bella!" Chakotay cried out in dismay as he turned to look at the dog who was watching him intently, her tail wagging. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd had that nose in a snowdrift!"

Kathryn lifted her head, spied the dog, and laughed. "That's what you get for being the early riser around here. She's used to you getting up to let her out about now."

"I need to let her know when we have the day off." He gave the dog a pat on the head and reached for the remote opener for the doggie door. "There you go, Bella. The doggie door's unlocked."

As the dog padded across the room and down the stairs, Chakotay rolled over and took Kathryn in his arms. "I think you cover up your head just to avoid Bella's cold nose."

"I'm not a new dog owner, so I know the tricks," she teased, snuggling against him. "Besides, she comes to you first because she likes you better."

He chuckled. "I don't think so, Kathryn. You're just trying to flatter me so I'll continue to put up with your dog."

"You love her as much as I do. You just don't want to admit it." She yawned and rolled over on her back, unconsciously lacing her fingers over her stomach where the phaser burn had been.

"Does it still bother you?" he asked, placing a hand on hers.

"Not in a long time." She gave him a tender smile. "You're too hard on yourself."

"I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you."

"Chakotay, it's not your fault."

"We should've had a second ship, so we would've known you were in the caves with Kagan and Chandler."

"No. Please, let's not go through this again." She cradled his cheek in her hand. "Everything is fine."

He pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair. At times, usually at night while he watched her sleep, Chakotay was overwhelmed with guilt. He remembered how shocked he'd been when he saw Kagan drag an obviously injured Kathryn out of the cave and onto the ledge just seconds before the shuttle's antimatter containment failed. They'd been hiding deep inside the shattered Maquis base since Tuvok had left three days earlier. They hadn't known that the Delta Flyer had entered orbit overhead and had beamed Kathryn and Tuvok to the surface, and they should have known.

He'd almost killed her. He'd rigged the ship's containment failure to distract the men from Cabrera and Maraqet's main attack up the passageway, and he'd hidden in the rocks at the base of the hill to pick off the men if they retreated out one of the three back exits. Everything had gone according to plan when he saw the woman he loved walk out of the cave and into harm's way.

He'd learned later that she'd escaped serious injury by the narrowest of margins--because of a step back against the cave's inside wall, because of an atypical vertigo that made her avoid the ledge, because of Kagan's position in front of her so that his body shielded her from ship's deadly shrapnel. But at the time, he hadn't known whether she was dead or alive. He'd scrambled up the tortuous hillside that night, frantic to reach the cave as quickly as possible, oblivious of the blue hot flames of the shuttle, unmindful of the painful pressure in his lungs. He couldn't stop, wouldn't slow down for any reason, for all he could see in his mind's eye was her broken and bloody body lying lifeless on the floor of the cave.

When he reached the top of the trail, he came to a dead stop. Chandler, with Kathryn in his grip, was just a few yards away, shouting into the cave. To his utter amazement, she was not just alive, but still fighting. He watched as she managed to free herself from Chandler's grasp, giving him the opening he needed to take over the fight. Running full speed up the last few yards of the ledge, he tackled the man just as he raised his phaser and took aim at Kathryn.

"You're thinking about the explosion again, aren't you?" Her voice was soft, forgiving. "Please, don't let it haunt you."

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that night. My plan was to back you up so that you wouldn't be hurt. I spent weeks working with Maraqet to get the Toroyans to release the Hooded Snake for just that reason, so we could be there, unexpected, to tip the scales in your favor."

"Chakotay, that's exactly what happened."

"When I finally got to you, finally held you in my arms, you seemed to fall asleep. You looked so calm and peaceful that I couldn't make myself wake you, and there was so little time before we had to leave."

"When I saw you, when I realized that you'd come to my rescue, I knew everything was going to work out." She gave him a sympathetic look and reminded herself that he needed to talk about this again and again until he found some sense of closure. "Knowing that you were there to manage the situation, I just relaxed and let you take over."

"I know that now, but then, I was just so anxious to talk to you. I tried to convince Maraqet to leave me with you until the others arrived." He didn't need to remind her that the Toroyans' single stipulation had been that their ship remained cloaked at all times, afraid that its presence would complicate an already complex diplomatic tangle. "I only agreed to leave when he suggested a compromise."

"You mean our time together on the Flyer. We both needed to see each other and confirm that everything was going to work out all right." Kathryn paused, gesturing for silence. Downstairs, the dog burst into the cabin and started up the stairs at a gleeful lope. "Here she comes!"

Moments later, the shaggy pup bounded onto the bed, dropping her toy and gleefully licking whatever bare skin was accessible.

"Oh, no you don't," Chakotay countered, putting the toy back in Bella's mouth and then proceeding to wrestle with her while Kathryn made a quick escape to the bathroom.

She took her time, wanting to wait until the dog's energy level decreased before she returned to bed for a few more minutes of sleep. It was a rare day off, and she meant to spend most of it resting and spending time at the cabin. When the noise level abated, she opened the door and leaned against the jamb, watching Chakotay snuggle Bella against him as she gently licked his hand.

"That's a pretty picture. A boy and his dog."

Chakotay grinned and unceremoniously pushed Bella off of the bed. "Be a good doggie, and go lie down. My number one cuddler is back."

Kathryn walked toward the bed, kneeling for a moment to give Bella an affectionate scratch behind the ears, and then she crawled in next to him. "I'm so glad you didn't mind that I brought Bella out here with me."

"I was thrilled when I saw that you'd brought a dog, Kathryn. I know you won't stay anywhere too long without one, if you can help it." He gave her a quick kiss on the end of her nose and then took his own turn at the bathroom. "Wait right there, I won't be a minute."

Kathryn watched Bella turn three times before sinking onto her pillow with a sigh and gazing up at her mistress with liquid brown eyes full of love. "Do you miss other doggies, Bella? Are you happy being the only dog in this part of the universe?"

Bella just snuggled her chin on her paws and closed her eyes, so Kathryn rolled onto her back and stared through the skylight at the pink, early morning clouds. She'd left her forwarding address with her mother, but for the first two months of her leave she'd only heard from family and friends. Then she got a discreet query from Admiral Hayes about when they could expect her back. She ignored it, and for another two months, Starfleet left her alone. Then Hayes began a regimen of weekly contacts that her mother dutifully forwarded without comment. Kathryn knew that she would soon have to make up her mind.

As angry as she'd been with Starfleet and the Federation, she missed being at home and enjoying her family and friends. As lovely as this planet was, she missed earth, and she longed for those familiar holidays and seasons more than she thought possible. She was also happier than she could ever remember being in her personal life. The work she'd done in designing and building the new orphanage was gratifying, and she'd even helped the Caritas in some of their missions of mercy. She loved the work she was doing. The cabin was exactly what she'd always wanted. She even had a dog.

And then there was Chakotay--or Tyee, as she called him in public. She turned her head and studied the closed bathroom door, tears filling her eyes. She was relieved to finally be able to love him deeply and openly, and she knew that he loved her just as much, enough to give his life to protect her without a second thought. Working beside him with the Caritas or on the farm or improving the cabin was heaven for her, as natural and comfortable as a hand in a glove. What else could she ask for besides what she had here? What right did she have to occasionally long for a different farm in Indiana?

"A penny for your thoughts," Chakotay said as he slipped back into bed. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

She put her arms around him and kissed him. "I was just thinking how happy I am here with you."

"Yeah," he nodded, "except . . . ?"

"Except?" She wondered if he'd been reading her mind.

"I saw the look on your face, Kathryn. You miss earth. Right?" When she started to protest, he put a finger over her lips. "Tell the truth."

She looked down, embarrassed. "Sometimes, I do."

"That's more like it. I know you do."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Have you taken up mind reading?"

"Actually, you aren't that hard to figure out. You weren't happy when you were there because you missed me, and you aren't happy here because you miss being there." He tucked her head under his chin, her cheek on his shoulder. "The problem is that you want to have it all. You always have."

"You aren't exactly right, Chakotay. I was unhappy there without you, but I'm happy here, happier than I've ever been in my life."

"Do you want me to come back with you?"

"We don't know if it's safe. There must be other members of Section 31 still in Starfleet. I can't believe that Chandler's group was the bitter end."

"Maybe they'll leave us alone. We haven't been bothered in over six months, so I'm thinking it might be safe."

"You'd go back with me? You'd leave Marilas and the children? The Caritas?"

"I don't want us to be apart, so I'll do what I have to do. I know you're homesick."

"A simple case of homesickness could be cured by an occasional visit to earth."

He laid his cheek on her hair, listening to her breathe, watching the sun fill the room with light. "They're after you to make a decision, aren't they?"

"Starfleet?" She sighed. "Yes, they are. It's been six months, as you said."

"Tell them to stick it."

She grinned. "Stick it?"

"You need time to recover. The last ten years have been tough, and you need time to reflect on all you've been through before you can know what you should do next."

"All right. I'll just send Admiral Hayes a two-word response: Stick it!"

"And in the meantime, I'll help you relax and enjoy life."

"Enjoy life. What a concept." She was drowning in his eyes, her pulse already racing because of the passion she saw there. "I love you."

"I love you, too. And here's a promise, Kathryn, just to relieve any doubts you might have. Whatever you decide to do, wherever you decide to go, I go with you. From now on."

She pulled his head closer, pausing just before their lips met. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, mister."

In the corner of the loft, Bella lifted her head from the pillow and listened to the familiar sighs and murmurs coming from the king-sized bed. Intrigued and excited, she was about to get to her feet to investigate when Kathryn stuck her head out from under the covers and glared at her.

"Bella!" she said in a gruff voice. "You know better. Lie down and stay."

Chakotay felt sorry for her. "She feels left out, poor puppy."

"We'll take her for a walk later. Computer, crate the dog."

A force field activated around the pillow, and Bella, resigned to her confinement, groaned and laid her head back down on her paws, watching her owners with her soft brown eyes.

"Kathryn, she looks so depressed."

"Do you want that cold nose to interrupt us the way it did last weekend?" His eyes widened as he recalled the dog's very intimate, unpleasant, and ill-timed exploration of his naked backside a few days earlier. "I thought for a minute you were having a heart attack."

He blushed and gave her a wry grin. "You have a good point. A walk would be a great way to cheer her up later."

Kathryn laughed and pulled him closer, a wicked grin on her face. "Now, where were we?"

Chakotay shifted so that he was looking down at her, putting his weight on his elbows on either side of her body. He studied her face, thinking she was the most captivating woman he'd ever met, and then the depth of his love for her made it hard for him to breathe. "You refused to give up on me. You risked your life more than once to vindicate me. How can I ever thank you? How can I ever show you how much I love you?"

"I know how much you love me," she assured him. "I can see it in your eyes." Kathryn traced the dimple in his cheek, her eyes closing as he claimed a tender kiss. With a sigh, she said, "All I've ever wanted was the chance to love you back and to share my life with you."

"We're going to have a long, happy life together," he predicted. "A beautiful life."

The end


End file.
